If I Lost on Purpose, Would You Stop Following Me?
by Super Robot Malinarlen
Summary: Jilted by Crystal, Elm bribes Lyra to the call. Risky, seeing Lyra hasn't been ENTIRELY in her right mind since a casualty 3 years ago. Tenaciously, she attracts trouble wherever she goes. Consequently, as her cruel rival Silver soon discovers, she's more than a little hard to follow... Semi-crack comedy, Soulsilvershipping, Hot-blood!Lyra, Tsundere!Silver. Cover art by EarlGengar
1. Crystal's Baton Pass

_For as far as I wander, there's a forest. And when I look up, I'm lulled by a glowing green canopy. Light diffuses only from there, and shadows sway endlessly beneath dimmer branches. _

_Long ago, this forest was my haven.  
_

_"You still remember it... Even though you want to, you can't forget,"_ a childish voice murmured_. "Are you comforted by that wish? Do you want to go back?"_

_"Can you really do that? Take me back to that time?"_ Lyra thought aloud in wonder, rolling slowly on the strange and soft forest floor.

_"I can. But only if you can find me."_

_"Where?"_

_"One day..."_ The voice faded, dragging the light and forest canopy with it. Lyra, afraid of the abyss spreading beneath her, stood up and ran after the voice.

_"Don't," _she yelled, panting_. "I'll go. How far is it?"  
_

_"Far–far–"_ a raspy voice started.

_"Huh?"_

"Far-FAR-FAR!–" Unexpectedly annoying, the voice grew louder and blared like a boat horn, until it was tingling in Lyra's ears: "FAR-FAR-FAR–"

"Yagh!" Lyra blasted, falling out of bed and dragging her pillow with her. Landing directly on her back– with her legs splayed up into the air– her dazed eyes spun in their sockets before scanning the Farfetch'd alarm clock up on her nightstand.

The realistic alarm clock, swishing its plastic, injection-molded leek, continued obnoxiously screaming: "-FAR-FAR-FAR-FAR-"

Noticing the time, Lyra snapped from her sleepiness. "BLARG-eh? Nine 'o clock?" she gasped, jumping up and hitting the pokeball button on the alarm base. "How did I manage to OVER-SLEEP?" Pulling off her faded, baggy pajamas, she ran and yanked clothing from a wall hanger– her trusty denim rompers and a red, long sleeve shirt– and then proceeded to pour into them on. Scooping her crazy brown hair into messy pigtails, she pulled on her white, pillow-sized cabbie cap and checked her reflection in her outdated computer monitor's glass screen.

"Hm! The unruly hair of a mighty warrior," she proclaimed egotistically, tugging at flyaway strands. Wildly darting around her room next– grabbing her bag, socks, and shoes– she barreled downstairs, huffing. Stopping in the dining room below, she paused when she saw her mother at the table. Her mother, a woman of youthful appearance, was the sort who always wore patch aprons and bright colorblock mini dresses (and who never seemed to sleep).

"Finally awake now, are we?" the woman taunted, calmly sipping hot tea.

"What? Why didn't you wake me up?!" Lyra demanded angrily.

"I can't coddle you forever." The woman held her round face with a sigh– her pinky touching the beauty mark under her left eye's corner. "Life's tough, honey." She took another sip. Despite this pretense, she simply thought Lyra needed the extra sleep, since the girl had worked hard yesterday just to fix the kitchen sink. A Grimer had tried climbing up through the P-trap and ended up exploding the drain. Before refitting it and cleaning up, Lyra spent prodigious energy chasing the dumbfounded pokemon around the yard, screaming, with a bottle of bleach.

"You... you're so hard on me!" Lyra wailed with heartfelt injustice, all while hurriedly tugging on her thigh-high socks and hopping about.

"Oh, come here. Look, I got your pokegear fixed. See? Mom's not so bad. Just never run it through the washer and dryer again."

"Uah? You did," Lyra muttered, taking it in hand and becoming thoroughly moved by the sentiment. "Thanks mom."

"Yeah, honey. Your shoes're by the door, get going to Elm's lab." Mom handed her a tiny cupful of coffee.

Lyra swigged and inhaled. "No breakfast?"

"I said get going!" Mom huffed, stuffing toast in Lyra's mouth and shoving her out the door.

* * *

Basking in the sparkling afternoon sunlight, the professor's two-story lab commanded Lyra's total attention and wide-eyed admiration. Though it was an unmissable landmark in her microscopic, bumpkin town– and she passed by it every day– it now irradiated a strange, mesmerizing new energy which made her shiver in anticipation.

_Unfathomable technology and squeaky clean floors await inside! s_he imagined it all excitedly, her fascination clouding her sense of time. In truth, she had never been invited inside by the professor– not even once– so the prospect of fully viewing it made her that anxious. _But Elm... why invite me over now?_ she wondered, knowing fully well that she was the sort of riffraff that distinguished people like him never wanted around– except when they needed a cheap repair-woman; _You've never trusted me before, not even when you needed your toilet re-set! So. What's this all about?_

Only two other kids lived in town: a mild-mannered boy named Ethan, and an elite, genius girl named Crystal (at least, she used to live there)... and THOSE two were the ones who were on speaking terms with the professor.

Lyra held her chin in contemplation. _Everyone's been saying that Crystal helped Elm with his field research– and similarly, Ethan does Elm's cleaning and kidsitting. So... why was I called over? _she wondered pensively._ What does he possibly need of me? He called me here, but... the last time we even spoke was three years ago at dad's funeral.  
_

Glancing at the clock on her pokegear, Lyra gathered her resolve, tucked away her doubts, and pushed open the lab's front door. Marching down its immaculate floor, she spotted the strange and unfamiliar Professor Elm. Clenching her jaw and stiffening her arms, she inhaled deeply, then held her breath, and strode over to him.

Elm rose from his desk chair in greeting. "Lyral– you're here," he said, innocently botching her name. "I've been expecting you."

"Hello. Good morning! I mean, afternoon," she responded awkwardly, bowing her head. "Very sorry I'm late. Ah... And it's Lyra."

"Lyra? Oh yes! Lyra. My apologies. Your name is somewhat similar to Crystal's, so I slipped up," he admitted.

"I... erg. Yes! Our names share the same vowels," Lyra stammered, confused. "I think?"

"Never mind that!" He led her over to his work table. "I would like you to pick a pokemon from the two here. Go on, you can keep it."

Lyra uncomfortably gawked at the two pokeballs on the table._ I heard that he gave Crystal a rare, regional starter pokemon, but... Me? I'm not assistant material! _She then disturbingly stared at the professor._ I'm not a genius like Crystal– nor a nurturer like Ethan– he barely knows my name, and this setup is suspicious! _Distrust swirled in her mind but– swallowing her hesitation, and deciding to be honest– she forced her feelings into words and outright asked him: "Pick one? What is this! Is this a bribe?"

Elm laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "I guess you caught onto my ulterior motive. You see... about a month ago, I sent Crystal on a small errand to bring back an egg from an old colleague of mine. Incidentally, once there, she also met Professor Oak! When he saw–"

"–She met Professor Oak?" Lyra rudely interrupted._ The Professor Oak? _she mentally added in wonder:_ The greatest pokemon researcher of all time? That's probably related to the town rumors surrounding her disappearance as of late...  
_

"Yes, he was visiting my colleague as well." Elm cleared his throat. "But as I was saying, when Professor Oak saw Crystal's inherent talent at raising pokemon, he was so impressed, that he gave her a pokedex and bid her well on her journey!"

"Cheered on by Professor Oak? Crystal... is super lucky," Lyra realized aloud, feeling oddly unimportant as she stared at the two leftover pokeballs._ Crystal excels in everything she does. No wonder Elm relies on her so much..._

"But that girl... She really has a mind of her own." Elm exhaled deeply. "As soon as she came back, I asked her to raise this egg, as it needs the warmth of another pokemon to hatch... but she refused! Then she dumped both it and Professor Oak's pokedex on me and ran away! Apparently she took all her possessions and left her parents after doing so... Anyhow, I can't tell you how disappointed I was!" Scooting his chair out and reaching under his desk, he brought forth a bucket which held both the egg and the pokdex.

"Crystal?" Lyra choked in disbelief, her face turning blue._ She REFUSED the pokedex? Professor Oak believed in her, Professor Elm depended on her so much, and she left? _she thought, shaken by this._ WHY?_ Slowly dying inside, Lyra's pigtails withered like wintering tree branches and her soul spewed from her mouth in a white gob. "Bleegh–" She looked more like a tormented spirit than an actual girl.

_What's WRONG with her?_ Elm thought in panic, unable to read her thoughts. "–Ch...cheer up Lyral, I mean Lyra." He desperately fanned his hands at her. "If you promise to raise this egg for me, you'll not only receive a rare starter pokemon, but also this pokedex! I'll even let you fill it up in Crystal's place!" He held it before her and shook it, and when he got no response from this– he grew desperate and threw it at her head– much like bait.

Smacked in the forehead, Lyra fell to the ground, but– like a weighted doll– sprang back up, bringing the red device to her face. "I get to keep it AND fill it up?" she asked deliriously, her eyes shining. "Really?"

Elm clasped his hands together. "Really!"

"All I have to do is raise the egg? Really? Alright! I'll definitely do it!" Lyra swore heroically, brandishing her arm.

"Excellent. That's great!" Elm laughed fretfully. _Finally! _he thought._ I was really worried that Oak would laugh at my failure!_

Seriously taking to her task, Lyra gleamed over the pokeballs on the table. "A Totodile? And a Cyndaquil," she said lowly. "So Chikorita's already been taken." Her face squished up in disappointment._ Well of course Chikorita is gone... That's the cutest one, _she thought, the pokemon galloping forward through her mind with a glazed and creepily-smiling face._ Definitely suitable for an elite diva like Crystal!_

"Like boxed dinners," Lyra murmured, carefully glancing over the remaining starters.

"Huh?" Elm squinted his eyes at the logic disconnect._ Boxed dinners? _he thought._ ...What?_

Lyra picked up a ball and decided._ This pokemon. It's sort of hunched looking and crazy haired– kind of like me in the_ _morning before I've had my coffee!_ she thought._ Like this, we'd probably understand each other the best, so... _Unlatching the pokeball, she called out its resident, and materializing on the floor, a Cyndaquil shrilled and curiously pointed his nose into the air, sniffing.

"Whoa," Lyra breathed and stepped back a bit, thoroughly speechless by the creature's radical appearance._ It's definitely cuter and awesomer than I had initially thought!_

"An excellent choice! Here you go." Elm smiled, eagerly shoving the bucket of goods at Lyra.

With uncertain, shaking hands– she bravely took its handle._ Man,_ Lyra thought to herself, grasping the bucket. _Elm must __REALLY not__ want to raise that egg himself. I mean. He asked ME of all people– someone he never counts on at all... I wonder if Ethan rejected him, too. Was I a last resort?_ Lyra thought worriedly, kneeling beside Cyndaquil to get closer._ Or was Ethan too invaluable as a housekeeper to send off on a journey?_

Nestling the bucket on her side, Lyra reached out to pet Cyndaquil's head– only to be consumed by an arch of flames igniting from his back. As she yelled from the attack, Lyra's body burned for two whole seconds before the pokemon turned down the flames. Choking, Lyra rattled and dropped, much like a torched piece of meat on a griddle.

"My... Seems you haven't gained his trust yet," Elm said with a nervous laugh. "But don't you feel bad, fire pokemon are a little bit difficult to raise."

"Cyndaquil, you've DONE it," Lyra cried out, tears of fury running down her soot-covered face as the pokemon regarded her in shock. "Such power, such passion. I've been singed through the heart." She shifted one leg forward and threw out her palm at him. "I've fallen for your–" she swayed her shoulders deliberately, "–BURNINGUUu SPIRIT." She yelled out the last part as if it were the name of some sort of incredible attack.

Brimming with disbelief, or just outright terror, Cyndaquil sweated and cowered. He had done it. He had caused this girl irreparable brain damage.

"Ha ha!" Elm laughed forcedly. "I'm sure you'll gain your pokemon's trust in no time, and once you do, you should try taking the gym challenge!"

"Huh? But–" Lyra said and paused, shaking off her soot and staring down at Cyndaquil. "–I can't leave my mom alone."_ Her income alone won't sustain both her and the house! _she thought._ I should've thought this over before accepting the pokedex...  
_

"Hmm, yes." Elm adjusted his glasses by the rim, absorbed in earnest thought. "Things must've been difficult for you and her ever since your father– well... Never mind that. Here. This may help you reconsider things," Elm said, taking a necklace out of his desk drawer. It had a strange pendant, much like an old coin or a meowth's medallion. "This is an amulet coin. They're extremely rare and rumored to sporadically fall off of a Meowth's forehead upon evolution. If your pokemon wears this... those who battle you will become overconfident about winning and double their battle wager." He handed the pendant to Lyra.

"Huh... Battle wager? I can get money from battling? Cash?" She held it up in interest.

"Yes, of course. You've got a trainer's card already set up, right? It's actually a very lucrative job. The average trainer earns up to ten-million pokedollars a year."

Lyra's eyes glazed over and euphoria enveloped her heart._ Am I seeing pokedollars now? Yes! All our debts will be cleared in only years, _she thought glowingly._ Mom can finally buy quality cooking ingredients... Volcano Bakemeat! I'll never have to do low-paying, menial labor ever again! Though I'd like to keep plumbing, as a hobby, though.  
_

"I'll tell my mom that I'm leaving, thank you!" Lyra said graciously, attentively bagging her amulet and the egg. As she clipped-up her back, Elm's lab assistant neared and presented her with an armload of pokeballs.

"Here, take these," the young man said. "We were going to give these to Crystal, but. Well. You know how that turned out! But I'm sure they'll serve you well on your quest to complete the pokedex."

"Complete the pokedex?" Lyra murmured, taking the armload; "I can understand filling it up a bit, but... completing it?" _Not even Champion Red truly completed such a task, _she added in thought._  
_

"Ye-yes! That's what I REALLY need your help with," Elm explained anxiously. "Professor Oak and I go WAY back, and I'd hate for him to think badly of Crystal... So I need another youngster to use this pokedex in her place. A ghostcatcher, if you will... Please?"

"Oh. Okay... No problem," Lyra answered strangely, slinging her bag back on. Holding her pokedex in hand, she peered down at it._ A ghostcatcher? Is that like a_ _ghostwriter?_ she wondered._ Surely he doesn't mean catching only ghost types... he means catching pokemon under Crystal's name..._ Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, an uncertain feeling churned; something too wistful to be outright jealousy, but still tainted with that vile passion nevertheless. Feeling that it would be too presumptuous to admit such an emotion, Lyra quickly brushed it off.

_If I do this for Crystal, _Lyra thought, a dark expression settling on her face_; maybe she won't hate my guts anymore... Maybe, one day, we can go back to the way things once were. _

_Even though honor doesn't work that way._

Rousing from her thoughts, Lyra sensed something burning into the side of her skull– and it wasn't Cyndaquil's flame. A sudden instinct shook her with the unwholesome feeling of being watched. _Huh?_ She breathed shortly, eying her surroundings._ There's just Elm and his assistant here now, but..._ Her gaze trailed up to the nearby window above–

where she saw a fierce pair of eyes glowering down at her.

"MYNGHAAA–" she yelled out, dropping her pokedex. It landed to the floor with a loud, "_CLANK!"_

_~To be continued...~_

* * *

**This story is probably what would occur if Pokemon Gold, Crystal and Soul Silver were thrown into a blender with some QUESTIONABLE shojo manga. (Will it blend?)**

**Though love rivals appear, this is a SoulSilver-shipping tale.**


	2. A Bet With Ethan

_Were those eyes human? Were they REAL?_ Lyra wondered in agony, glaring up at the high window and searching for the pair of menacing eyes which had inexplicably vanished._  
_

Elm—startled by the girl's horrific yell—nearly fell over. "What? What is it?" he asked, still jittery.

"Fa, face," Lyra babbled stupidly, trying to communicate. "Face. A face." She tilted back her head and snapped her teeth of few times—supposedly to imitate the imaginary creature she had seen.

"Ahh. OK." Elm laughed in a joshing manner, picking up her fallen pokedex. "Maybe you should go home and tell your mom the EXCITING news?" He checked the device for damages before handing it back. "And to rest your head a bit."_ I think you need it! _he added mentally._  
_

"Kay, thanks, bye." Lyra hurried, running for the door—her uncertain new pal Cyndaquil slinking close behind.

The door slammed shut and the lab filled with silence. In this uncomfortable atmosphere, Elm's assistant—the young scientist—felt quite brave enough to question his superior about all of what'd gone on. "Don't you feel bad about," he began, "basically treating her as Crystal No. 2?"

"Don't put it so crudely," Elm said (and with the sort of blind pride best suited for parents). "Crystal is her own person!"

"What an inglorious fate..."

* * *

Wind rustled through the bordering cypress trees, rattling their boughs and dancing their shadows across the warm September earth. Lyra, hiding in the shade of the lab's left corner, hung there indecisively, still attempting to muster enough courage to investigate the area beyond._ Those eyes appeared from the window beyond here, _she thought._ It must've been a pokemon!_ She was sure of it._ It looked crazy powerful. Could it be a legendary pokemon? Should I capture it? _

"But what if it's just a peeping tom?" she considered aloud. "Heh. Elm must be _pretty_ popular." Watching when she said this, Cyndaquil tilted his head in confusion. "Anyhow!" Lyra jumped and clenched her fists. "We must face off in the face of that face's appearance, _for that is how one faces things_." She crossed her arms at this, miraculously commanding Cyndaquil's stunned attention. "Never be afraid of anything and CONFRONT the peeping tom, slash, legendary pokemon, full on, head on–" And at that, she flung herself around the corner, instantly colliding, face-first, into a mass of purple. In that moment, her wishes were thereby fulfilled—literally.

"–Oof!" Lyra fell backwards, landing on her hands and bottom. "N... naaads," she bleated, shaking her injured hands and then rubbing her face. Noticing the tall shadow of a person standing over her, she raised her head and saw him: a pale boy with long, red hair and sharp, menacing eyes. He was undeniably the one who had peered in through the lab window earlier.

_That's no pokemon!_ Lyra realized, overcoming her speechlessness. "...Faaace!" she yelled, pointing up at him. Cyndaquil squealed in agreement.

"You!" the boy blurted, grabbing her mouth and shoving her flat on her back_. Stupid girl, _he thought._ You're TOO loud. _

"Mmf–" Lyra struggled in the dirt, breaking free and shimmying away on the back of her limbs—like some sort of undead creature in reverse. Or probably just a Krabby (if there was any difference). Gasping for breath, she cautiously watched him in disbelief._ What a death grip. His hands were strangely cold and clammy!_ Grossed out by this abrupt realization, she rolled over on her hands and knees and spat—gagging and nearly barfing in the process. _Must... purge__!_

The boy narrowed his eyes at her, mildly insulted by this._ Does this rube actually think I'm DIRTY? _he wondered, automatically checking his hands before snappishly shrugging off this concern and balling his fists. He huffed importantly. "So this is the famous Elm Pokemon Lab... Tch. What a disappointment," he sounded off. "I can't believe I snuck all the way to this podunk, backwater crap hole just to be caught by some _child_."

Lyra ceased her spitting and looked him over. Tightening her eyebrows in full concentration—and moving her head from side to side like a metronome—she puffed out her cheeks and conducted her study in silence.

"...What are you staring at?" He frowned, perturbed by her demented stare._  
_

"He's a spy!" she cried out, causing him to flinch. "A paid snoop sent by a rival to glom the competitor's edge! That's it, isn't it?!" She decided he had this unlikely profession—or something like it—even though he appeared no older than herself.

"Humph. I see you're as stupid as you look." He craned his neck and gave her a downward stare—which was his signature thug look. "Are you going to run to your precious professor to tattle on me now? Go ahead... Such tactics are used by the weak, anyway." Disregarding her, he walked over her splayed legs, as if she were a mere piece of trash, and left.

Glaring after the boy, Lyra violently rubbed at her mouth just to remove the boy's icy, lingering touch._ What! Dissing me, and even Elm's lab! _she thought, violently overflowing with outrage._ Wha__t did he expect to find there, MONATERS? A GRADUATE SCHOOL? So is he a spy or not? One should be clearer about these things! What a..._

"–WHAT A JERKFACE," she blasted—her voice piercing the sky.

* * *

Walking across the street and making it home, Lyra let Cyndaquil into the house and paused in the middle of the beaten old dining room to wait for her mother.

Lyra's mom pulled away from the counter when she noticed her. "Hey! I just put the finishing touch on some cupcakes," she said, shoving a plate of the lightly frosted treats at her. "Have some!"

"Uh. Thank you," Lyra said, taking one bite before swallowing immediately. Eating quickly was crucial for enjoying desserts made from cheap, musty flour.

"Oh yeah, the Moomoo Milk arrived while you were gone, so you can start delivering now," her mom said. "The owners said something about their Milktank getting sick and deliveries stopping, so... You might have to search for another side job in the meantime."

"Uh, about that job," Lyra said, placing her cupcake on the table.

"Yes?"

"I'm leaving." She grasped her hat at this proclamation. "To become a pokemon trainer!"

Wide-eyed, her mom jolted and stumbled backwards, her dessert plate crashing to the ground.

"Nh! Mom! Are you ok?" Lyra ejected, catching the near-fainted woman.

"Just, just do what you can, baby–" Mom hyperventilated. "–I'll be fine alone—there's a castle... I can see bright, tiny lights!"

"Waah, what the! Snap out of it, MOM." Lyra shook her furiously. _Stop freaking me out, you crazy woman!_ she worried._  
_

"Lyra! You... you wish to leave me too?" her mom cried, milking the moment for all it was worth. "Why?... Don't I... Don't I make good enough _food_ for you?"

"Mom... I'm sorry, but there's an upside to all this, so listen," Lyra explained, forcefully sitting her mother upright; "We have to be adults, here."

The woman gawked up at the ceiling in a daze, seemingly ignoring her daughter's instruction.

"Mom. Professor Elm said." Lyra paused. "He said that trainers earn around _ten-million pokedollars_ a year."

The woman instantly regained strength. "Oh?" she sang, springing to her feet. "Then you shouldn't be wasting any more time! I'll deliver the milk today~"

Lyra sweated at this sudden display of liveliness. "That was... a fast recovery."

"And I just came up with a great idea, baby! How about I help save your money? It'll be like a savings account, every time you earn a little, you can send some back to me. Right?" Her mom rushed enthusiastically.

"Of... of course." Lyra nodded. "I was already thinking along the same lines."

"Alright, so I'll see you later. Work hard you two!" Mom smiled, bending down and patting Cyndaquil on the head before rushing to grab the milk crates. She barreled out the door, holding the large stack all by herself.

"Mom is truly a woman ruled by material things," Lyra stated.

Ever so quiet, Cyndaquil hunched his small shoulders and worried intensely about this family and even his own future.

"Ok, Cyndaquil. You wanna give this thing a shot?" Lyra asked, looking down at him.

"Nh," he gave a noncommittal grunt. Right now, he didn't want to do anything but find a hole to crawl safely into.

Lyra peered down at him determinedly. "I need your help. We need to win every battle along the way—to rake in the dough. If we can do that, then we can live posh for the rest of our lives," she explained. "The best foods! The best fashion! The good life!" Snatching her cupcake from the table, Lyra presented it to Cyndaquil, urging him to take a bite. "Because nothing in this world is gained without giving up sweat!"

Chewing the cupcake, Cyndaquil's mouth wobbled from the old taste (in effect making him wonder if it WAS made from sweat), but Lyra surprised him by taking the cupcake and stuffing it into her mouth next—chewing and swallowing it in one go.

"It's a pact then," Lyra blazoned, tipping her hat; "No going back on your word! We're LIFE partners, now."

Cyndaquil gazed up at his trainer, deeply moved by her actions. For a human to so readily eat something that a pokemon's mouth had touched... This human seemed different from the breeders who raised him and even the professor who had once studied him. This girl was...

Admittedly off her rocker.

"Come on," Lyra said, staring at the front door intensely. "Let's move before mom changes her mind. It's time to go. It's time to burn out and leave it all behind. It's time to live!"

* * *

As soon as she got outside her front door, Lyra thought she heard someone calling her over the whistling breeze and the rattling windmill overhead.

"Hey, Lyra!" a boy's voice rang out from across the street.

Searching for it, Lyra spotted her childhood friend, Ethan, standing in the distance. Holding his black and gold baseball cap, which threatened to blow off in the wind, the boy grinned and waited, his little blue Marill bouncing toward Lyra with his springy tail held high and audibly shaking with each step.

Alarmed by the other pokemon's appearance, Cyndaquil stiffened—his back snapping up new flames like a lighter.

"Ethan?" Lyra said, surprised that the boy was going out of his way to speak with her NOW, of all times. Though he was her childhood friend, she had stopped hanging out with him three years prior in order to intentionally estrange herself from him—for his sake—and especially Crystal's. _After that time, in light of the scandal surrounding dad's death, __I took responsibility and vowed to forget my carefree childhood_, Lyra thought,_ and t__o forget the unhappiness and rumors caused after the accident... to distance myself from the friends who would be disadvantaged by my presence! It's crazy, but it's what had to be done. _She already accepted this path long ago. _Because I'm just riffraff that no one really wants around._

With his smiling face shining in the sun, Ethan ran and stopped a ways before Lyra—almost as if he were aware of the social barrier placed around her. "Ha! You got a pokemon now?" he asked, his gaze steadier than she remembered it. "That's pretty cool."

"Yep," Lyra replied shortly, turning her back on him. "And I'm leaving town for some time. Got that?"

"So I've heard," he answered. "You're really going to become a pokemon trainer? That's pretty tough. Don't push yourself too hard. You _are _just a girl." Despite the rudeness of his words, he genuinely sounded concerned.

Lyra couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity. "Heh! Says the boy who always lost to JUST a girl," she said, proudly bringing up their past but only to suppress him. "I bet I could still wrestle you to the ground, making you cry delicious tears of ENDLESS DEFEAT."

"Hey. I... that," he stammered and scratched at his cheek, haunted by this truth. "Let's not fight like this before you depart, ok?"

"Ok, then let's fight another way!" she said, clawing at the air like a ghost. "Your Marill, against my Cyndaquil. Right here, right now. Let's go!"

"Come on, Marill's not a fighter."

"What? Marill has a type-advantage over Cyndaquil. Water against fire? You could have this battle in the bag!"

Ethan looked down at his water pokemon before deciding. "Ok. But if you lose," he began, "you have to stay here in New Bark Town and help me with my housekeeping service."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Lyra yelled. "Why would you demand such incredibly high stakes?"

Ethan closed his eyes, shrugged, and disapprovingly shook his head. "Giving up already?" he asked, egging her on. "If it helps any, know that you're also welcome to make up your own ridiculous terms. That's how it usually works, right?"

Lyra braced herself at this challenge. "Ok, fine! If I win, you have to give me my first battle earnings," she exclaimed; "and also, you have to take care of my mom while I'm gone and visit her every single day!"

"Then it's a bet." Ethan grinned confidently, pointing at the enemy and instructing his pokemon to strike. "Marill, attack Cyndaquil. Roll Out!" Marill pulled his tiny arms and tail in and spun forth at Cyndaquil—instantly ramming the fire starter and sending him flying. As Cyndaquil hit the earth and rolled, he cried out—a dirt cloud rising in his wake.

"Cyndaquil!" Lyra yelled, clenching her fists tight. "Cyndaquil, don't give up!"

"Your Cyndaquil can barely stand," Ethan said without any surprise. "Looks like it's over before it even began." _And I have no intention of letting you out of your promise, _he thought.

"No... No way. Get up, Cyndaquil!" Lyra said, her panic showing in her tensed-up form. "We haven't even begun our journey yet! Remember your burning spirit, remember the unstoppable pact we made which can't be broken. We're life partners now—and our time has come to burn out and leave it all behind. To live! To face off in the face of danger because that's how one faces things. Full on! Head on!" She paused, her arms trembling at her sides as she spoke from the heart (and with a straight face, amazingly). "Because from now on, alongside you, I want to confront our fears, while refusing to be fearful, because that's what it means to be fearsome! Because I want to go with you, wherever you'll take me, so I can see the blinding future ignited by your flame!"

Roused by this redundant but heroic speech, Cyndaquil raised himself back up on all fours—even though his limbs were wobbling from the heavy damage sustained from the attack. Somehow, he was starting to see a glimmer of what that promised blinding future could be. The future which Lyra believed resided inside of him. The unknown future inside his small, frightened body.

"No way! You're going to make him keep battling?" Ethan yelled, perturbed by their incredible will to fight. "He can barely keep up with you!"

"When we first met, Cyndaquil completely baked me," Lyra said, her face sweating from the extreme memory. "His tenacity alighted me to the core. And in that fateful moment, his burning spirit awakened my adherence to his success. His energy showed me, he's no ordinary fighter! With his intensity, he has the power to defeat everyone and anyone. All over the world." Lyra swore in conviction: "Simply put... he's completely awesome."

Hearing her words, Cyndaquil's eyes gleamed with determination.

"So you understand?" Lyra asked Cyndaquil, their eyes meeting and their will synchronizing. "Then like a coal that's kicked out of humiliation, bounce back and become a diamond! Dreams that come true instantly aren't really dreams! You get to burning!"

In a flashing burst of intense heat, flames jumped from Cyndaquil's back and burnt up the air around him—alighting the particles kicked up in the blaze and quickly turning everything black. This was the ignition of their unbelievable future.

Coughing frantically, Ethan winced his eyes and stammered: "Marill, k...keep rolling out!"

Concentrating on the pokemons' off-the-scouter battle auras, Lyra sensed Marill's round, stubby figure in the darkness in relation to Cyndaquil's. "Tackle him, right in front of you," she told Cyndaquil, laughing shortly. "Hm! From here on out, our partnership will never fail! It'll only bear the imploding apricorns of love, trust and victory—it'll be the bearer of the impossible! Rage your dream!" She then let out a bloodthirsty cry.

"Wha... what the?" Ethan gasped, astonished by her and Cyndaquil's intertwined screams. _It's like her innate craziness __is being channeled through her pokemon!_ he realized, certain that he'd seen this terrifying thing from somewhere before._  
_

Gaining his bearings in the smoke, Cyndaquil scrambled and leapt forward, forcing Marill down with a loud squeak and holding him fast.

"Pinned to the ground—just like old times!" Lyra said, laughing in excitement.

"Ergh... Don't be so sure yet!" Ethan called out. "Marill, Water Gun now!"

Cyndaquil—hyper-vigilante and sensing the stream of water squirting towards him—jumped back, nimbly avoiding the attack.

"Keep tackling him! With the smoke screen in place—he can't see a thing," Lyra said, jumping backwards amidst the spreading smoke; "Feel the enemy! Feel the ripple! And when you're uncertain, use the springing sound of his tail to judge where he is!"

_No way! Clever!_ Ethan gritted his teeth in panic. "Spread out your Water Gun, every where!" he commanded in a last final effort; "Marill! Don't move too much, just keeping using water gun!" _Marill... We have to win!_ Ethan wished desperately; _Please... you have to do this!  
_

Through the thick smoke, the two pokemon kept battling—thumping against the ground and screeching as they tore at each other.

Until, the smoke began to clear...

_~To be continued...~_


	3. Liquid Fire

Marill's body sat on the ground, remaining only a blob of blue in the thickness of the still-clearing smoke.

"It's over," Lyra said grimly, crossing her arms. "His energy level plummeted."

Not sure what she meant, Ethan rubbed his eyes and struggled to see beyond the dispersing smokescreen. "What do you mean?" he demanded, gasping when he finally saw it– Marill's closed eyes and unconscious face. "Marill." He rushed over to the fainted pokemon.

Cyndaquil– scuffed up in the dirt and close to fainting– knelt on his tiny legs and panted. His body was shivering from all his zealous tackling.

"You did it. You got him," Lyra praised the little fighter, bending down and hoisting him onto her shoulder. "You're the hero!"

Ethan, cradling Marill in his arms, avoided eye contact with Lyra and exhaled sharply. "Fine. You won," he said, his eyelids heavy with defeat. "You're good enough... to take the gym challenge."

"Hm-hm– no need to remind me! I knew that from the START," Lyra bragged deliberately, just to lighten the mood. "You have to take care of my mom now, ok?" She patted Ethan's shoulder. "See ya!" Sliding Cyndaquil down onto her back, she leaned forward, adjusted her bearing, and rushed past Ethan like an unstoppable gust of wind.

"Wait–" he yelled after her; "–do you even know how to CATCH pokemon?"

"You really think I'm that DUMB?" she yelled back, careening off down the road out of town.

"Impulsive as always." Ethan breathed deeply, smacking his face and rubbing his eyes. As Marill stirred awake in his arms, he hugged the pokemon, who was just now realizing what had happened. "Looks like I couldn't get her to stay with us, huh?"

Marill cooed quietly at this.

_Lyra... why does it always have to be this way? _Ethan wondered, holding Marill tightly and turning away from the road– away from the same path that both his childhood friends had run down. First Crystal, and now Lyra– the two of them swept away by their own whirlwind destinies. Contemplating this lonely fact– and wondering if he was strange for not wanting the same– Ethan walked back to his house, his feet dragging in silent defeat.

But Ethan wasn't the only one to brood over this parting scene. Up in an evergreen tree overlooking the burnt road stood the red haired boy from earlier, coldly staring down and analyzing the impossible battle he had just seen. "How can that be," he murmured in disbelief. "That Marill was double that Cyndaquil's level... and it was a water-type against a fire-type." Frowning about this serious matter, he forced a smirk and merely laughed. "But it just goes to show, strong pokemon are weak in the hands of pushovers... When I get my own rare pokemon, I'm going to be far stronger than that." Determined to soon test out this power, the boy set his remorseless eyes on Elm's pokemon lab.

* * *

"Come on, don't give out on me yet– we're almost to Cherrygrove City," Lyra groaned in exhaustion, hauling the exhausted fire pokemon on her back.

"Quuuueel..." he whimpered.

"And why won't you go back into your pokeball?" Lyra asked. "Is screen time more important to you than my back?! You weigh twice as much as you look!"

Cyndaquil ignored her and pompously raised his snout into the air.

"So you CAN be cheeky when it suits you, hm?" she said, slowing her pace. "Ahhh... I'm so hungry, I'm losing strength!" Fortunately, she saw a pokecenter in the distance and this re-sparked her drive to continue. From what she understood, pokecenters were official Pokemon League sanctioned rest-stops with free medical treatment, hot meals, restrooms, and benches. "Sanctuary!" she bellowed, flailing her arms frantically and flying for it.

Before Lyra could rush past the town's bordering tree thicket, however, an old man appeared and halted her. "Hold on there, young trainer," he said, holding out his palm. "You're a beginner, aren't you?"

"Ye...yes..." Lyra gulped, surprised that this stranger knew. "What gave us away?"

"Hohoho, we're all beginners at one point or another. Once you've been there, you know what to look for," the old man said ambiguously, walking away and continuing to babble; "Come with me and I'll give you the grand tour, answer all your questions, and tell you the ups and downs of being a trainer."

"Thanks much, but I really need to get to THAT there pokecenter and–"

"–Yes yes, just follow me, I'll show you how to get there, I'll tell you everything you want to know about the amenities of this town and all the towns thereafter, since they're all quite alike–" the old man's voice rambled on as he wandered away, his arms folded behind his back.

Lyra felt it would be very bad manners to leave him all alone to talk to himself, so she was compelled to follow him, and especially out of due respect for the elderly.

"This is the pokecenter, where you can heal your pokemon," the old man said when she walked up on him. He showed her the outside of the inviting building.

"Yes," Lyra said before adding. "And if you don't mind, I would like to go inside now so–"

"–And this is the pokemart. You can buy things here–" the old man went on, flourishing his speech with many unnecessarily meaningless phrases like 'this is something you'll need to keep in mind' and 'do yourself a favor and remember this' as he explained all 70 years of his collective wisdom. "–And this way is Route 30. Lots of kids just like you are waiting to battle there!" At last, the old man led her to the waterfront on the edge of town and finally finished his gratuitous tour. "And at last, this is the sea, as you can see."

"I see," Lyra grumbled, her eyebrows so irritated, they had somehow folded together.

"What's a matter? Kids like you should be full of life! Here, take this," he exclaimed, handing her a foil trading card.

"Huh?" she said, turning it over. "What do I do with this?" _Use it to cheat some kid out of his pokepog collection? _she wondered._  
_

"It's a MAP CARD," the old man barked– an action which greatly startled Lyra. "Swipe it through your pokegear's card reader and it'll download a map of the whole ENTIRE region."

"Really?" Lyra gasped in awe, turning the card over several times. "Thanks. I'll do that then. Hnf!" Clearing her throat and frowning darkly, she crossed her arms– pokegear in one hand and card in the other– and vigorously swiped the card. "Digi modify–" she said, "MAP CARD ACTIVATE." Grunting, she needlessly flung her arms out and let them flop to her sides.

Taking a moment to register, the pokegear then beeped out a congratulatory tune:_ "Dun dun dunn, dundi dundi dunnn~"_

"Well then," the old man said. "Now that you're done breaking the suspension of disbelief and making stupid references, I really must go. Figuratively AND literally! Because that MiracleBerry I had for breakfast RATHER worked a miracle!" He coughed. "If you're ever in need of a new pair of shoes, though, come see me. Good-bye!" He waved, abruptly leaving her.

"Hmm!" Lyra emitted, holding her hips and forgetting that Cyndaquil was still clinging desperately to the back of her neck. "That was a nice old man, but... a new pair of shoes?"

* * *

"Thank you, come back anytime!" the pokecenter nurse said, handing Cyndaquil back. Revving up the flames on his back, he squealed in rejuvenation.

"We're making good time," Lyra mumbled messily, stuffing her face with a free rice ball– which was the only food the pokecenter had, being they were fresh out of sandwiches and jelly-filled donuts. "If we keep up this pace, we should reach Violet City by tonight."

"Qu-ueelll," Cyndaquil said, flailing his stubby little arms and raising a very good point.

"What? You tired of doing all the work or something? Fine, we'll catch some comrades and build a team," Lyra replied, licking her fingers and exiting the pokecenter with him. Over her left shoulder, she eyed the route back to New Bark Town. _We didn't catch any pokemon back there, 'cause we wanted to escape from Ethan... so maybe we should backtrack a little,_ she thought, taking a few steps in that direction. Before she could step any further, though, an unexpected figure appeared on the horizon.

Walking down the route, right at Lyra, was none other than the pale, sharp-eyed boy with long, red hair. _It's him! _she realized._ The spy! The jerkface who shoved me! What's he doing here?_

As they came face to face, they stared at each other and exchanged a few moments of intense, awkward silence.

"..."

"...?"

"You got a pokemon at the lab..." the boy said, lifting his chin and glowering at her. "So you think you're amazing now, right?" He scoffed.

Cyndaquil growled in response, but Lyra simply puffed out her chest and tilted her head down, glaring at the boy from an impressive angle. "So you noticed, huh?" she said. "I see... Well enough waffling. If you want to fight me so badly, just do it." Despite her cool countenance, she was close to losing her head and raving all over the place.

"Straight to the point... I guess you understand what I'm saying," the boy said, reaching into his purple jacket pocket. "Well I too have a good pokemon now... And I'll show you what I mean!" Flicking his wrist, he sent out a small blue reptile which possessed eyes as sharp and fierce as his own.

"T... Totodile?" Lyra exclaimed, grabbing her hat and bracing from the shock. _How did he get his hands on that pokemon?!_ she wondered._  
_

"That's right, I've got a pokemon that's even better than yours! Scratch attack!" The boy lashed his arm out, flawlessly commanding his Totodile. Rushing forward, the pokemon raised his short claws and swept at Cyndaquil's belly.

"Eyagh! Smoke screen!" Lyra countered, Cyndaquil swiftly burning up the air with smoke._ That's_ right, Lyra thought, focusing her gut feelings and seeing beyond the impossible– to see what's _inside_ the choking haze._ For some reason, I can sense where they are, so Cyndaquil and I have an advantage now!_

"You think you can keep winning with such a pathetic strategy?" the boy said, simpering. "You've wasted a turn," he added, shaking Lyra's nerves. "That's right. Things aren't that simple. If you want to hide like a coward, someone's going to eventually find you. Right behind you, Totodile. Scratch!"

Spinning around, Totodile whipped his arm out and scratched Cyndaquil right across the eyes.

"Cyndaquil–" Lyra yelled, watching the critical hit devastate her pokemon. Rushing forward into the smoke, she gasped and loudly fumbled about in the black smoke.

Mere moments elapsed, but the boy grew impatient nonetheless. "Stop delaying the battle!" he spoke out. "What can you possibly do for your weak little pokemon? Fight in its place?" Throwing back his head, he laughed cruelly at this insulting recommendation– but he would soon regret it.

"Not a bad idea," Lyra yelled out from the darkness. Explosively– a massive flame tore through the smokescreen, razed down the center of the battlefield– and blasted Totodile with a crisscross of sputtering fire. Flying backwards, the blue reptile screeched and wailed, completely overcome by the scorching onslaught.

"What the?" The boy spat, jolted by this upset. "Where did THAT move come from?" He began to sweat, agitated. "Who WAS that?" he yelled in confusion. He almost expected a new pokemon to emerge, but when the smoke screen died down, he instead saw the girl holding a tall, clear bottle in her hand.

"190 proof Everstone Brand Liquor," Lyra advertised, lifting the bottle; "Endorsed by Firebreathers everywhere."

"How DID you–" he screamed, his voice dissolving into obscene AND unintelligible ranting.

"Take a swig, then blow it past the flames on Cyndaquil's back. Kind of looked like a Fire Blast, didn't it? Psyche." She threw back her head and smirked in a trollish manner similar to his own– mocking and provoking him further.

"You... You!" He seethed. "That's cheating!"_ And just what kind of girl carries something like that around?! _he wondered, overflowing with resentment._  
_

Restraining her compounding fury, the girl held the bottle down at her side, and her expression grew fierce. "Says you..." she growled, pointing at him with furious justice. "You think I don't know what you DID?" She jabbed her finger at the air a couple more time before thankfully stopping. If she had pointed it anymore vigorously, it would've flown off and speared him through the chest.

The boy stood back in shock, overwhelmed by her extreme indignation.

"That's not your Totodile– that's Professor Elm's!" Lyra went on to say. "And you stole it... Give it back to him, you window creeper!"

"Window CREEPER?" the boy spat, completely at a loss for words. "I–I'm not a window creeper!"

"Hwa! You completely ARE a window creeper, so repent before I, an ally of justice, blast you away!" she declared righteously, lifting the bottle over her head and taking another big swig.

"You're completely crazy... Messed-up in the head!" the boy shouted, recalling his fainted Totodile and quickly pocketing his pokeball. Shaking with rage, he spun around, stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, accidentally dropped something, and promptly broke into a run.

Sweating in disbelief, Lyra spat out her liquor. "H...hey," she called out, staring at the plastic card sitting before her. "You dropped something."

Stopping shortly, the boy checked his jacket pockets, his pants pockets, his boots, all cardinal directions, and even inside his shirt.

"No no, it's over here," Lyra beckoned him, bending down and retrieving it. Standing back up, she read the plastic card and realized that it was the boy's trainer card.

Choking in dismay as he noticed what had happened, the boy rushed at Lyra– but it was too late. She had already seen his name.

_~To be continued...~_


	4. Golden Rattata

Printed on the back of the card was the boy's name– and even further beneath it was his full signature, which was written in surprisingly ornate and beautiful handwriting. If Lyra had never seen the scary mugshot on the front of the card (or the actual person that it belonged to) she would've have easily made the mistake of believing that it belonged to a woman of excellent character.

"Trainer's name... Silver," Lyra read it aloud, holding the card close to her face. "Silver, huh? That's actually a very pretty name."

"Wha, what do YOU know?" he stammered, covering his reddened face with one hand and trying to grab his card with the other. "Give that back!"

"No!" Lyra refused, dodging him and moving away. "Not until you give Totodile back to Professor Elm!"

"You little brat. You're asking for a world of pain," he threatened, the redness of his face only deepening with his anger and humiliation.

"Just give Totodile back and say you're sorry. If you do that, I'll catch you a new pokemon. Hmm... maybe several until I can find rarer ones–" Moving closer, she poked his chest, "–'Cause you seem like a 'GLEGHURBLE, OVERUSED and UBERS ONLY' kind of guy."

"G-get away from ME."

"You're so jumpy, what's your problem?"

"YOU'RE my problem–" Silver accused her, backing away in bewilderment: "Saying all these weird things to me, and so casually, too! You... You live such an easy life where everything is handed to you... You have NO IDEA what it's like to scrape by, to fight for yourself after someone leaves you behind." He clenched his teeth, as if to restrain his heartfelt indignation. "I had to steal Totodile– it's the only way– because without Totodile, I'm..." His razor-sharp words evaporated into the silence, melding with the whistling of the afternoon breeze and the sullen thought it carried.

Lyra stared down at her feet, reviewing his honest complaint with uncomfortable closeness. _Because without him_, she thought,_ I'm..._ "...all alone," she continued the words; "And trying to be strong." When she raised her head back up– her brows quivered tensely and her eyes blinked with moisture. Holding the trainer card up to the startled boy, she quickly faced away– her profile still normal but her cheek suddenly wet.

"What are..." Silver's voice weakened when he noticed– his chest tightening up and a warmth spreading throughout it. "Don't... don't cry, you... you idiot–" he yelled, yanking his card back and fleeing.

Lyra watched him vanish into the distance before pulling her hat down over her eyes. "Come. Let's get a move on," she said, Cyndaquil following in concern.

It wasn't until they were halfway through the grass back to Newbark Town that either of them spoke. "Cyn...di.. queell?" the little pokemon asked, managing to gather up just enough courage to simply ask her about that trick she pulled off during the battle earlier.

"The fire bottle?" Lyra asked, somehow understanding. "You mean this?" She held up the Everstone liquor. "I use this for scrapes and cuts and it even works great as a camp fire starter... Meheheh. That's how I knew it would make a great flammable solution."

"Que quil quiiil," Cyndaquil admitted, daring to suggest it.

"WHAT? I'm not that uncouth!" Lyra declared in outrage, offended by his presumptuous (but unknown to all else) confession; however, she held her chin in serious thought and then remarked, "Well... I DO sometimes use it as a mouthwash. But I've never tried to intentionally chug the stuff... why?"

Cyndaquil gently nudged his snout against her leg and then looked up at her with his narrow, trembling eyes.

"Are you worried about me because of that all-out sob-fest back there?" Lyra asked him softly.

He nodded his head.

"So cute!" She sniffled. "I am thoroughly touched by your brotherly concern. But worry not, I'm ok now, and I promise to keep my head straight this journey," she assured him, stopping on a high, earthy ledge and stubbing it with the toes of her red loafers. She grew increasingly violent with each kick– but then after awhile, she stopped. "I still cry when I remember that dad's no longer here," she said; "I want to keep smiling, so I try to forget."

Cyndaquil stretched his short neck to try and get a glimpse of her face, but she hid it too well. Did she not want him to see her?

"Forgetting someone... It's like killing them twice," she quietly said. "Does that make me selfish?"

Cyndaquil immediately disagreed by shaking his head. He believed Lyra to be a nice person, so by extension, he believed it impossible for her actions to be mean. Though he'd only just met her, he already knew he wanted to follow her forever. Because, when she smiled at him– and believed in him– he could feel his body flames grow brighter and stronger.

"Thanks, Cyndaquil. You're born with miraculous powers, but even you must miss the ones who raised you. My complaints must be pretty piddly in comparison. Still, it helps having someone to talk to," she explained, trying to imagine what Cyndaquil's past life was like. "I've never told anyone all this stuff..." She paused. "It feels good!" she threw her hands up and cheered; "Now let's forget about our worries go get some comrades!"

Cyndaquil squealed in agreement and they went rushing down Route 29, careening into the grass at full speed and skipping at random bursts. But this release of bliss could not last forever. Out of the corner of her eye, Lyra saw something gleaming in the grass beside her– alive– shaking and hissing at her.

"Eh?" Lyra ejected, taking notice too late. She felt something viciously clamp onto her arm. Yelping profusely in pain, she looked down and found a scrawny Rattata, gnawing on her elbow like it was a prime hunk of cheese. "Euah, get off of me!" Lyra panicked, shaking it loose and sending it flying. Falling to her knees, she grasped her arm and all-too-eagerly doused the bite with some Everstone liquor, which ALWAYS came in handy for such things. Thankfully, the wound wasn't as deep as she had thought.

Seeing as how the Rattata was scurrying back around, Lyra stood up and relayed a command to her comrade: "Cyndaquil! Rattata at eight 'o clock."

Cyndaquil, trying to figure out what this even meant, became confused and got slammed by the enemy's quick attack instead.

"What, you don't know clock position?" Lyra gasped, breaking into song and rhyme; "Listen up, Cyndaquil, it's relative direction! Twelve in front and six behind. Nine to your left and three to your right– big to small~"

"Quiiiil..." He crawled back up, still not certain AT ALL what this meant.

"Ok. You're learning that song LATER– 'cause it's my own SPECIAL creation– but for now, we gotta stop that little bugger. I know we've only gone so far, but I've seen enough to believe in your miracle drive!" She threw back her arms and clenched her fists in complete conviction. "Yes, and I've seen the way you battle! Like this, continue on, and confront all with a fearless heart. Delivering force– Super Tackle Attack!"

Cyndaquil quickly bounced up. The enemy Rattata wasn't strong enough to take him down yet! Besides, Lyra just gave a rousing speech and put the word 'super' in front of his rather boring and low-powered tackle attack, so it JUST HAD to be incredible now. Landing and charging forward, Cyndaquil rammed the rodent, knocking it aside and causing it gasp and heave for breath. In the sunlight, its marvelous golden fur gleamed like a pile of balled-up foil.

"Truly, you're no ordinary fighter, Cyndaquil. You knocked the wind right out of him," Lyra said, taking out a pokeball and readying it. "But there's... I got a feeling there's something weird about this Rattata. Maybe."

Cyndaquil knew exactly what she meant. The Rattata in question was all pointlessly sparkly and completely the wrong color.

Lyra lobbed the pokeball at the rat and instantly pulled it inside. On the ground, the ball twitched and rolled, shuddered and jolted and at last stopped moving. "We GOT it," Lyra declared, jumping and dancing around. "Our very first captureeee–"

This news excited Cyndaquil so much, that he shrieked and rolled up into a little ball and stayed very still. And there was much rejoicing.

* * *

"Why won't it COME OFF?" Lyra said, scrubbing with all her muscle. Dunking Rattata's head back into the tub of bubbly water, she yanked it back out, scoured it with a scrub brush, and then dunked it again. Rattata was very displeased!

"Um, I don't think it'll come off," the pokecenter nurse explained nervously; "And I think you're going to drown it if you keep dunking it like that."

"Come on, look at this thing!" Lyra grabbed Rattata's disturbed, bucktoothed face and aimed it at the nurse. "It's supposed to be purple, right? RIGHT?" Lyra went on, wobbling its unstable head. "But it's all golden and whatnot. It looks like some demented youngster hit with a whole can of cheap spray-paint! It's _unnatural_. An abomination! A menace to society. When one who looks upon this face for the first time, they transpose the thought, 'what the FUDGE?' and then they feel disposed. Disposed where, I wonder... It better not be our lakes and oceans!"

The downstairs of the pokecenter fell silent, and all its inhabitants gawked disapprovingly at Lyra for her poor word usage. Finally becoming self-conscious of the noisy scene she was making, she quieted herself in final embarrassment. Good thing THAT happened, because just then, the pokecenter door opened and someone walked in.

"Hohoho, I knew it was a beginner trainer when I heard all the fuss from outside," a familiar old voice said; "Young one, do you know what kind of Rattata you've got there?"

"Huh?" Lyra answered, scanning the man and immediately recognizing him; he was the nice old man who had given her a map card earlier.

"Guide Gent," the nurse said, clutching a fist to her chest. "Do you know what this Rattata is?"

"Yes." He nodded. "What that girl has there is none other than a rare, shiny pokemon... such luck for a beginner."

"Shiny... pokemon?" Lyra asked.

"Sometimes nature will bless chosen pokemon with a coloration different from the rest of its kind," he said; "A sort of advanced mutation."

"So... does that mean it's stronger than usual?"

"Nope. Not at all."

The room-full of eavesdroppers fell down backwards. The glory of such uselessness was just too great for them to bear.

"So it was just luck?" Lyra asked. "Luck that I had a GOLDEN but otherwise AVERAGE Rattata eat away at my arm?"

"Rattata do like to chew on things... Odd that it would attack a human so viciously, though," the old man said, noticing her wound; "Perhaps you've got bad chemisty with it. How about you trade it for something else at the Cable Club upstairs?"

"Cable Club?" Lyra scratched her head. She was suddenly feeling embarrassed for not knowing all about some of these things.

"It's basically a pokemon trade center that's open to the public. However, the one here in Cherrygrove has some troubles. It's ran by problematic youngsters and only boys are allowed."

"A gentlemen's club, eh? Well that's dumb! Might as well trade at the next town."

"However. Because of the club's exclusivity and rampant, nerd-raging elitism, there's an abundance of rare pokemon there... hohoho. I imagine getting in wouldn't be too hard if you're creative enough... Anyhow." He left for the door. "Come see me any time you're in need of a new pair of shoes." Laughing mysteriously, the old man left as abruptly and he had arrived.

Lyra looked after him, deep in thought. Finally, it occurred to her. "Wait–" she started, recalling her bathing Rattata and running out the pokecenter door. Cyndaquil hightailed it after her.

* * *

Lyra's puffy white cap sat on the bathroom table beside her and gazed into the full-length mirror, almost as if were contemplating its very own existence! "Yosh," Lyra said, examining herself as well and donning a baseball cap quite like Ethan's. "Man... if I was a boy." She narcissistically ran a thumb past her jaw and examined her neck. "I'd be one smooth lady-killer."

Cyndaquil snorted.

"Wait. The clothing must be taking a secondary effect!" Lyra said, desperately rattling her noggin. "It's already making me say boy-like things, I have to hurry before this attribute ruins my metagame." Throwing on the rest of her outfit, which was _heavily_ inspired by Champion Red's, she greatly tightened her baggy pant's belt and slipped on socks. Thankfully, these over-sized clothes efficiently distorted the appearance of her small frame, making the whole ordeal that less risky. "It's odd but... this _is_ kind of exciting," she said, addressing Cyndaquil; "Really, it is! Why don't you wear a pink bow for an added bonus?"

He nervously shook his head.

"What! You don't want to join in on the fun? Well that's ok," she said, stuffing her white cap into her bag and stepping out of the bathroom. Entering the living room, she notice the Guide Gent sitting at the table, sipping tea and staring off at the wall in a very profound manner.

"Hey! Thanks for the change of clothes, old man. Gotta go," Lyra said, slipping into the new shoes that he had laid out for her. She and Cyndaquil then bolted out the front door.

After a long minute of silence, the old man finally moved. "H-huh?" he sputtered to himself, greatly baffled; "...Where did that boy come from?"

* * *

_"Pchaak-"_ Pushing the pokecenter door open, Lyra gripped her baseball cap's bill and nervously hurried past the curious stare of the nurse– who was particularly interested in Cyndaquil.

"I told you to wear a bow," Lyra whispered at him.

He let out a low trill in resumed opposition.

Stomping upstairs, the two arrived in the dim, empty hallway that was once the trading loft._ Why's no one attending the counters?_ Lyra wondered, investigating the far end of the abandoned reception area. Fumbling with the farthest counter's side-door, unsure of how to open it, she instead swung her legs atop and climbed over it.

Cyndaquil, who was stuck on the other side, silently peered up at her. "Ueee..." he whined, unsure about all this. What a party pooper.

"What do you mean, 'I dunno...'? Would you rather not go in?" Lyra asked, searching his quivering face before taking out his pokeball. "Ok, just let me handle it then." She clicked the button, recalling him in a short burst. Stuffing the pokeball away, she continued onward, studying the blue door beyond and reading its sign:

_'-CABLE CLUB-'_

_'No girls allows!'_

She squinted when she noticed an extra sign beneath it– a long list of rules which she felt held doubtful importance. (But actually, she was just too lazy to bother reading them.) Straightening her over-sized clothing, she shoved the door open and walked in.

And as soon as Lyra entered the bright room, she was overwhelmed by a torrent of loud voices. At least thirty boys were sitting at computer consoles, talking and laughing boyishly about various boy things.

"Your Aipom for my Teddiursa, right?" a School Kid said to his Youngster friend.

"Yeah!"

At the center of the attention was a green-clad Camper telling a story. "–And then I fell off!" he said; "Good thing I found a magic balloon!" Right after this contextually-unknown punchline, a loud uprising of cackling and chortling befell the room, making the beeping computer consoles seem silent in comparison.

Lyra slunk back against the door, overwhelmed. _What's this? _she thought;_ Feels like I'm infiltrating 'Trouser Shorts Anonymous' during its social hour–  
_

"–Hey, nublet!" a boy suddenly called, startling her. "What did YOU bring to trade?" In his perceived impatience, he kept tossing a pokeball into the air and catching it– as if he wasn't even aware of its motion. He was a Youngster in a blue baseball cap, yellow shirt, and a blue pair of shorts. He was a unique individual. A rebel of the system.

"Ah-uh. Well. I have," Lyra said squeakily, quickly hitting her chest to restart her voice; "Ahem, I **have** a most excellent golden Rattata, served with a side of whipped potatoes and our house sauce." _DOH, what did I say_ _SAY?_ She frantically began searching for an exit.

"Get OUT of here," the boy yelled, grabbing her arm and infusing her with terror; "A guy with a 'shiny' AND a sense of humor? Come sit with me!" He dragged her over to a nearby console and sat her down. It appeared her cover was still safe.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

You actually DO have to cross-dress in Pokemon Crystal if you're trading as a girl.

_Even if you're trading to another Crystal Version..._


	5. The Rules of Cable Club

Having barely recovered from her panic, Lyra sat before the trading console and tightly clenched her teeth– her hands grasping her knees in disturbance.

"So what's it look like?" the boy inquired; "What ya want for it?"

"I've never traded pokemon before," she said, holding out Rattata's pokeball. "So, uh, take a look at it. I'll consider any offer. Any good offer!"

"Here, like this," he said, grabbing her hand and plunking her pokeball into the console pokeball socket. "It's now ready for observation and trade!"

Anxiously, Lyra watched the console bleep and change screens, popping up an image of the Rattata circled by a ring of stars.

"You're for REAL?" the boy exclaimed, grasping the console monitor and jumping frenetically. "TOP PERCENTAGE, YES." He then turned to her, his face completely serious. "Look, I'll trade you an Aerodactyl for that."

Lyra's mouth fell open in wonder._ A prehistoric, flying-rock dragon? _she wondered, remembering how extinct pokemon cloning became all the rage some years back;_ And for this accursed Rattata? There are good things in this beautiful world.  
_

"Joey! You still pawning THOSE off on people?" a nearby bug catcher remarked; "Well, I guess you did breed a ton of 'em with useless natures..."

"Be quiet! There's nothing wrong with the quality of my POKEMON. All of them are in the top percentile of their kind... AUTOMATICALLY." And saying this pointedly, Joey plopped his selected pokeball down into the console socket before remarking again: "Also, you're just jealous because this shiny Rattata is befitting of my _glorious_ team."

"Yeah yeah..." the bug catcher mumbled and went away, as he should.

"Ready?" Joey asked Lyra, to which she nodded tensely.

"Y-yeah."

**"Initiating Trade!"** the console's computerized voice rang out. Small, pixellated representations of their two pokemon appeared onscreen, exiting their pokeballs and walking over to each other's sides of the screen, and at a pointlessly slow rate.

"Take good care of Aerodactyl," Joey told her, watching the progress on the screen.

"Good-bye, Rattata!" Lyra remarked. _So long, you little blood-sucker!  
_

The trade completed, and the console's monitor went blank.

"You can take it out now," Joey said, taking out his pokeball.

Snatching hers up, Lyra took a peek inside the ball and saw it– her new Aerodactyl– who flapped his wings at her and trilled. So strong and healthy was his form! With his impressive wings and terrible claws, he would surely be a fearsome warrior.

Lyra couldn't believe that she already had such a pokemon on her team– so much so, that she couldn't contain her excitement. "Eyaa!" she cried, shaking in amazement. "This guy's _mine_ now?"

Joey balked, taken aback. "Er, you scream like a girl," he said.

Lyra paused, wide-eyed and frowning, desperation rattling at her senses. "I have allergies," she finally explained.

"..."

But such an excuse was no use. The room had gone silent, and all the boys had stopped what they had been doing just to glare at her.

"Wha?" Lyra emitted in confusion. She felt something sliding out of her cap; somehow, her cap had raised itself up just enough to reveal her tucked-in hair, which sprang out on both sides: her two pigtails, which flopped out, one after another, and bounced in their dumb freedom. "Oh nads," she said.

"Hey, you ARE a girl," Joey accused. "You tricked me!"

Chairs fell over and boys angrily demanded knowledge over what was going on– how this was happening– and what would be done to enforce their club's foremost rule. The rule being that no girls of any kind, shape, or form were allowed. Since several punishments were written and prescribed for this matter– and by various influential club members– there was a big what-to-do and internal power struggle. Eventually, a flame war broke out.

Amongst the proverbial mud-slinging, a green-clad camper came forth with a suggestion. "Can't we just throw rocks at her?" he asked, gaining favorable attention and recognition.

"Hold it!" Lyra yelled, pointing at them and backing away, "We all came here today. To trade! To set aside our political differences, to better ourselves, to escape the pressures of our oppressively-perfect utopian society– and most importantly of all– to find the simple example of truth inside... that pokemon are just pokemon. Why, prey-tell, can we not be the SAME? Brothers! What say you?"

Silently reflecting on her speech for barely half a minute, the boys abruptly resumed their mob-like behavior and began calling out their pokemon:

"Go Machoke!"

"Rapidash!"

"Graveler!"

The room was soon overwhelmed by a shoving mass of bewildered pokemon, destroyed property, and the resounding battle-cry of "GET HER!"

"No, wait–" Lyra pleaded in disbelief, jumping and vaulting over consoles as the pokemon pounded after her– knocking down everything in their path. "NOOO," she yowled in terror, "STOOPID BOYS." Dashing to the far side of the room– she grasped a window ledge and climbed up into it.

"Is she trying to jump?" an Ace Trainer asked.

A bug-catcher balked at this. "But this is the second floor!" he said.

"WHAT?" came the resounding response.

"Are you crazy?" Joey yelled in alarm.

"Not as crazy as you guys are!" she said, shoving the window open and pushing herself off the ledge. She instantly dropped from view.

Bringing their voices to a crescendo, the mob dove for the windows– hanging their heads out in fascination and fighting for a good view of the potential gore.

Lyra landed on her feet in a thud and a crouch, and when she stood up, the mob's angry raging turned into excited raving, with all kinds of statements like, 'WHOA, did you SEE that?' or, 'How can that BE? Her legs should be broken!' and also, 'AWESOME.'

"Joey! Thanks for the trade," Lyra said, throwing off her disguise to reveal her usual attire: jean rompers and a red longsleeve. Placing her white puffy cap back on her head, she shot around and said: "And if you ever grow out of being a jerkface... Call me." She saluted, clicking a button on her pokegear and aiming it for the window.

Spinning back around, she barreled off toward Route 30.

"Hm?" Joey glanced at his pokegear, realizing that she had somehow sent him her number through wireless. As his club mates raved on– gossiping and swearing in disbelief– a smile settled on his face.

* * *

From the entrance of Route 30, Silver stood behind a bordering tree thicket, watching Lyra's running figure recede into the horizon. "Humph. What a hypocrite," he said, having overheard most of the noisy incident; "Pretends like she's so upstanding, but then she goes and tricks a bunch of people into trusting her."

Possibly tricked himself, Silver couldn't help but remember the last time they had met; the fragile expression that Lyra had shown him and the words she'd said:_ "All alone_... _and trying to be strong."_ Though they were just mere fragments of a thought, it was as if she actually understood the feelings bottled up inside him. Could she possibly, even minutely, have such regrets, herself?

_Crying so easily... __Didn't she realize how weak she looked?_ he wondered. _What a wimp. I bet she cries over everything. She can't be as capable as she pretends... charring my Totodile with that cheap move of hers_... _that was just dumb luck. _

_Wasn't it?_

Suddenly unsure, he pondered the possibility that she was actually some kind of genius who only played dumb just to gain an advantage over her enemies. With this thought in mind, he wondered why she went out of her way to be so understanding of him. "I see why now. Well! She may have tricked that guy who she sent her phone number to, but she won't trick me," Silver decided aloud, holding his reddened face in irritation. "Who does she think she is, handing it out to weaklings like that? Is it because he's got parents who'll buy him a phone? How shallow. That girl. That annoying overconfidence of hers and that outgoing personality... Her wide brown eyes, I... definitely HATE it." He fumed in abrupt certainty. "That snob! Saying all that sickening stuff about believing in her pokemon, it makes me want to vomit. Her dumb luck is going to run out eventually– and when that happens, I'll CRUSH her and make her realize I'm the best."

Then and there, Silver swore that they would meet again. He would see to it.

* * *

Finally trudging into Violet City, Lyra gawked at the tiered, elegantly stacked roofs of Sprout Tower looming in the distance. As beautiful as she had to admit it was, severe disappointment stabbed at her gut. Puffing her out cheeks, like a fish, her eyes shrunk into eyeless slits and her head rattled despondently. "What is this?" she said. "It's not as impressive as I imagined."

Cyndaquil jumped in surprise; the tower seemed perfectly impressive to him. Just what had she been expecting? Believing that there was a story behind her words, he pawed at her leg for an answer.

Lyra looked down into the depths of his seeking eyes– and wistfully– she began to explain herself: "Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I'd always believed Sprout Tower to be an actual, giant Bellsprout." She soulfully spread out her arms– as if painting the scenery with butter. "A massive one, with peaked-windows, lush leaf turrets, and glazed porcelain parapets... Swaying gently in the breeze like a poem, or a fairy song. Breathing with majesty... and relish."

Cyndaquil carefully stepped away from her leg, unsure of what the heck parapets even were.

"Well never mind that, now. A tower is a tower is a tower, et cetera. Boy is it getting dark all of a sudden," Lyra blurted, fiddling with her pokedex. Out of its endlessly scrolling list of blank entries, only a few caught her eye now and then– these being the pokemon which she had caught or seen during her brief journey. "Well, let's head to the pokecenter for now. We'll plan for tomorrow from there."

And the two of them hurried along on their way.

Once they were in the confines of the warm pokecenter, however, they had some nosh and juice, and Lyra began checking her supplies. Upon pulling out her trainer card, and staring at it for some time, she let out a sigh of deliriousness. "Would you look at that?" she sang. "Look at this cash flow– it's GUSHING at us like mana from heaven." Holding her trainer card down for Cyndaquil to see, she pointed at the pokedollar total on its LED display.

"Quill..." he said and sniffed at it, carefully gazing up at her. He totally did NOT get what she was so happy about; it was just a bunch of numbers on a piece of plastic. As he studied her carefully, however, he remembered what she had said about her mother that very morning– about how she was a woman ruled by material things. Perhaps Lyra took more after her mother than she cared to admit.

"Oh! I just remembered," Lyra said, putting her trainer card away and throwing herself down on a lobby chair, furiously digging through her bag. She pulled out the amulet coin that Professor Elm had given her. "I forgot to put this on you. –AHH!" She realized yet again; "I missed out on all that extra cash during those battles earlier..." Her shoulders sank in despair. "We could've farmed even more profits..." They had encountered a lot of trainers, after all. Overcoming her bout of depression, she slipped the necklace over Cyndaquil's neck. "Looking good," she said with a thumbs up. "Try not to burn it off pal."

Cyndaquil looked down at it happily. He certainly felt sharper now.

"I was thinking that our team for now could be you, Aerodactyl and that Bellsprout we caught when no one was watching! I should deposit the rest." She sat down at the corner pc and booted it up._ I wonder if Professor Oak saw the data I've collected so far,_ she wondered pensively;_ though– he wouldn't know it was me. He would believe that it was Crystal..._

As soon as she finished and logged off, her pokegear began to ring persistently.

"Hm?" she emitted, bringing it to her.

"H-hello? Lyra? It's a disaster!" Elm blared in her ear– his voice wholly frantic, "Uh, um, it's just terrible! What should I do? It... Oh, no..."

"Elm! Are you hurt?" Lyra demanded, panic seizing her rapidly beating heart. "Did someone ASSAULT you?" Surely he had various window creepers.

"No, I'm just fine. But... But the last pokemon..." he stammered; "Someone broke into the lab and stole it."

_That's right, how could I have forgotten? _She mentally kicked herself. _I didn't tell him about the window creeper who took Totodile!_ "Elm, it was some red-haired kid, right?" she rushed.

"Yes, my assistant did mention such a description when he regained consciousness... Why? Do you know who he is?" Elm persisted.

"I'm ran into him earlier... I recognized the Totodile he had, so I beat him and tried to convince him to give it back. But he was really adamant about keeping it. It..." She paused in reflection. "It felt like he really needed Totodile for some greater purpose." She stopped at this, not sure of what else to explain._ Elm... I never contacted you about it... and on top of that I..._ She gulped, the guilt rising in her stomach.

"Beat him? In a battle?" Elm questioned. "You let him get away, didn't you?"

Lyra fell silent at the professor's insight. "I'm sorry," she said.

"You realize now that the decision for him to keep Totodile was not yours to make? That was my pokemon."

"I'm sorry... But–" Lyra continued, "–you could see that he was lonely and really searching for something. He's just a kid, too..."_ Even if he is a jerkface..._

Elm blasted a great sigh at the phone speaker. "I understand your feelings," he said; "However, I can't help but worry about Totodile being in the hands of such a rash and violent person. I even worry for you, now. People like that will often take advantage of giving people such as yourself. I want you to be more careful for now on, especially at night."

"Yes Sir..."

"And do me one last favor. Please tell me if you obtained any more information on that boy."

"I did. I think I remember a few digits of his ID number... And his name, too..." she revealed; "His name is Silver."

_~To Be Continued...~_


	6. Sprout Tower

Basking in the morning sunlight beaming in from the pokecenter's high windows, Lyra and Cyndaquil slurped their free broth and rice, neatly stacked their plates, and began folding their blankets. Though they'd spent the night on an uncomfortable bench, and their joints were chilled and aching, they brimmed with adventurous energy.

"An aching back and chilled body proves your indelible drifter's spirit," Lyra explained, leading Cyndaquil out the door; "Because under such adversities, your passion overflows and keeps you going!"

Awed and armed by this intense knowledge, Cyndaquil followed the girl across two wooden bridges and right to the steps of Sprout Tower, where the both of them were overtook by its magnitude.

"I take back what I said," Lyra said, staring up at the pagoda's intricately carved inner eaves. "This tower is GRAND." And at that, she slid open the great wood-paneled door and let them both in. A huge pillar, trembling in the center of the room, was the first thing that caught their attention. Inspecting it closer, Lyra began to sweat, made nervous by its unstable behavior. _Just how great is the structural integrity of this tower? _she wondered._  
_

"That pillar is said to be made from the spine of a 100 foot Bellsprout," an elderly woman said, stepping out from behind the pillar. "They say that's why it's so flexible. It gives with the movements of the earth, wind, and the battles upstairs. It's the main reason why this building hasn't collapsed."

"That's insane!" Lyra exclaimed. "It looks like it's about to!"

"Hmm... yes... Right now, it seems a particularly fierce battle is taking place up above. Usually the pillar is not shaking this actively."

"So. When you mentioned 'Earth, wind, and the battles upstairs' you weren't being metaphorical. You meant real actual battles." Lyra clarified. "...Upstairs."

"Um, yes..." the woman answered, unsure of what was being implied. Uncomfortably walking away, she joined a monk—who Lyra surmised was _actually as bald as_ a Bellsprout—and watched as he talked on about how the tower had been built for pokemon to practice Buddhism.

"Ok!" Lyra cheered, socially alienated but heading for the stairs, anyways. "Sorry Cyndaquil, but it's too dangerous for you to climb up with me." Recalling him to his pokeball, she tucked it away and stomped onward.

* * *

Battling to the top of the tower was expedient and rewarding. Though each battle pushed Cyndaquil to new levels, his fire-type match up against all the Sages' Bellsprouts made him an unstoppable force. At the last moment, however, the final Sage, Troy, sent out a Hoothoot—a practice employed to trick trainers who were only prepared for grass-types.

"At 12! Land, rev, and blast with Ember," Lyra said, carefully guiding Cyndaquil through the steps of battle. Landing from his high jump, Cyndaquil kept his position and launched a fire ball from his smoldering back, setting the enemy Hoothoot's tail feathers alight. The owl pokemon—losing his ability to steer—hooted and flapped in panic, crashing to the floor and fainting.

Sage Troy swiftly recalled Hoothoot to put out the flames. "Very good," he said, gracefully accepting defeat. "You have done well. You may progress to the Elder... Elder Li awaits you beyond this pillar."

Nodding to the sage, Lyra recalled Cyndaquil and stalked towards the wobbling pillar, which stood in the center of the hallway and the room up ahead. Before she could peer behind it, however, a tumultuous thud rattled her ears._ What was that?_ she wondered and paused, dragging her feet hesitantly before continuing onward. As she stepped out from behind the pillar, she caught a glimpse of the battle that had been rocking the pillar and she paused twice. "Jerkface!" she ejected, recognizing Silver, but failing to recognize his true name. Watching his battle with the Elder, she gaped when saw Totodile thoughtlessly chewing on a lifeless Bellsprout's head—crushing it in his mouth and causing green sap to ooze from its serious wounds.

"Enough!" the Elder yelled, his voice surprisingly angry.

"Re-set your jaw and spit that filth out," Silver said, ruffling his red hair. "We're through here." Faithfully obeying his master, Totodile slung the Bellsprout against the furthest wall, where it slammed in and slid down, its glassy eyes missing all hints of life. Totodile popped his dislocated reptile jaw back into place—a method which had been trained to him by Silver for more effective wins—and then faced his master, who recalled him without another word.

Rushing to Bellsprout, the Elder grabbed out a handkerchief and tightly pressed it to the pokemon's oozing head. "Quickly... Sage Troy. Someone," he said, repressing the panic underlying his tone. "Please take Bellsprout to the pokecenter!"

Sage Troy appeared, picked up the battered plant monster and quickly whisked it away.

The wisest Sage, Elder Li, then turned to face Silver. "You are... indeed skilled as a trainer. You may have the Flash Technique as promised, but first..." Elder Li said thoughtfully, a small but detectable amount of disgust in his voice. "I must say this. You should treat your companions better. The way you battle them is far too harsh. Pokemon are not tools of war."

Peering arrogantly at the old man, Silver turned around and faced Lyra. Narrowing his sharp eyes, he stormed toward her and raised his hand up—as if to strike her.

"EH?" Lyra gasped—backing away as far she could, but stumbling aside to avoid tripping; her heels stubbed into paneled wood which broke her retreat.

Silver slammed his palm into wall above her, leaning close to her face. "Hmph. Do you see this guy?" he mused aloud, glancing over his shoulder. "He claims to be the elder, but he's just another pushover. It stands to reason... Fools who babble about 'companionship' are _so_ scared of letting their precious pets go, that they'll do anything to escape from the true meaning of battle... I hate this weak way of thinking."

Lyra wrenched her eyes shut and faced away, escaping the evil glare of his inhuman eyes. The heat from his breath on her face was inhospitable. She almost wanted to whimper in fear._ No. Don't cry out... It's JUST a face,_ she thought in apprehension. In the time she spent with her eyes shut, Silver pulled away and left her to cower against the pillar. Slowly, she opened her eyes to confirm he was no longer there.

"I don't care about weak pokemon. I only care about strong pokemon!" Silver yelled at Elder Li. "It's time for weak old fools like you to recognize the method of the next generation. That's right, take your weak 'companionship' garbage and shove it."

"Child..." Elder Li emitted, troubled by Silver's disturbances.

Lyra glared at the boy, furrowing her brow and psyching herself up by tugging at her hat._ What is all this! _she thought._ I can't believe I got SCARED of him. _Understandably, the boy's face was frightening up-close, but still—she expected more indelibility on her part. _What is he even doing here? Giving a sales pitch?_ _What is he EVEN trying to sell? A campaign against weakness? __Saturdays and Sundays? Because, Mondays through Fridays are WEAKDAYS, after all. _

"Uwa—hahaha..." Lyra held her head and laughed pitifully. _Who am kidding. __That joke is situational, the punchline fell flat, and it barely works in my head, _she realized. "Such a crude set-up would never work in reality," she said aloud. "It's just stupid!"

Overhearing this, Silver scoffed. "Miss Morality herself," he said, turning on her. "Do you have something to add to that?"

_Did I... Did I just TELL that ENTIRE joke aloud? _Lyra wondered, unable to remember whether that was the case or not. (It was NOT.) _Curses! That means I won't be able to salvage it for parts!  
_

Silver glared at her. _What is this idiot's problem? _he wondered, watching her claw at her hat while making strange growling noises._  
_

Though Lyra's heart raced and her knees wobbled from the audience's pressure, she remembered her mother's wise words—to fake it until one made it—and this enabled her to miraculously make up another joke on-the-spot. "Silver—" she yelled, raising her arm up and calling the boy's attention, "—where?" She pointed at him._  
_

He glared at her, and after several seconds of irritable thought, he still didn't get it.

"It had no effect!" Lyra cried, holding her face in shame. "Of course! That joke ALSO had to be situational. If only he'd been holding a spoon... Silver where... Silver where..."

"Listen, idiot!" Silver yelled, his patience spent by her dawdling. "Explain yourself when you mouth off, or else you won't have a mouth LEFT to. Tell me! What do you have against my ideas?" He was clearly referring to the case he just made against Elder Li, the entirety of which Lyra had been ignoring for the sake of spinning meaningless jokes.

"I–I was totally paying attention just now!" Lyra yelled, continuing to point at him. "And I like your spirit, but in truth– what does it matter? Why pad an explanation out with words when it has no bearing on the realm of one's attention span? Because it does! Because sometimes the best defense is a chewed-up one that makes absolutely no sense. Don't ask me questions. Questions are volatile! And words like violence! Break the silence. I was just stroking your ego so you'd shut up and sashay off! It's called 'compromise', and it's an important part of every balanced breakfast."_ My defense is impenetrable! _Lyra thought proudly._  
_

"...Geh?" Silver spat and flinched, baffled and defeated by her inane logic. _What the... Something's NOT right upstairs with this girl. Wait, no... _he realized suddenly;_ is she making FUN of me?_

"It's quite alright, though! Don't take this to mean I'm bashing your worldview, or anything." She sensed his anger and held up her hands in peace. "I mean, I don't agree with what you did at Elm's Lab—window creeping and all—but I thought about it the other night, and... who am I to judge? After all, I became a pokeon trainer just for the money."

Elder Li gasped in horror, and Silver's face instantly blanked out, his features void of any expression.

"Still—" Lyra continued, clenching her fists in determination, "—My pokemon deserve a cut of the profits for lending me their awesome powers. Plus, anything else they need to live comfortably with me. 'Cause I'm not going to skimp on them like some kind of cheapwad." She paused and frowned at Silver. "I hope you're not a cheapwad."

"I'm—I'm not!" he stuttered._ Is she saying I'm cheap just because I don't dote on my pokemon? _he thought, enraged by this idea._ How dare she! I feel so humiliated!  
_

Without much warning, the confident look on Lyra's face instantly vanquished—replacing itself with awkward indignation. "About the other day," she anxiously began; "I wasn't crying. Or anything like that—I had accidentally bit the inside of my mouth and it forced out tears of indifference! And ON TOP of that, my eyes were still sweating from our intense battle."

Silver could only take so much of her stupidity. He could already feel his brain chemically unbalancing itself (even further) and infusing his body with adrenaline and wild rage."Oh, I see... Are you trying to insinuate that you actually have a spine?" he spat. "Get over yourself." Snapping his fingers, the candles in the room fell dark—as if their flames had been instantly robbed—and a scraping noise filled the air.

By the time the sages had re-lit the room, Silver was already gone.

"I fear greatly for the children of today," Elder Li uttered, falling to his hands and knees in despair.

"Elder Li," Lyra began—in an effort to soothe him. "What I said was true. I did become a trainer for money. However, I learned a lot about myself along the way—how I actually wanted to experience the joy of comradeship." Unzipping her bag, she presented him with the egg that Professor Elm had given her to hatch.

"That's..." Elder Li said, moving forward.

"A pokemon egg. The true reason why I became a trainer," she said softly, holding it carefully. "Inside it is a baby, not yet born into this world. When it hatches, it'll no doubt be cold... It'll need a comrade. In these past three years, I learned how difficult it is to live through the seasons, alone, without such a source of warmth and understanding... So I want to hold and warm this comrade—and all my comrades—and nurture them to their fullest potential. I want to erase the loneliness inside! Just thinking about such an adventure gives me a joy greater than I can even explain."

Elder Li nodded, a smile lifting on his face. "When you said that terrible thing earlier, I was greatly worried. People who exploit pokemon for profit eventually turn to criminality. But I understand now. Your determination is a difficult thing to explain. Child. I've never done this before... It has been a long time since I have encountered a trainer of such resolve, so I wish to battle seriously with you. Please let me bring out my most faithful pokemon to do battle."

Lyra jumped at this, greatly interested.

"However, I must warn you that she is immensely powerful," Elder Li went on, "and you are free to withdraw from this added challenge if you so desire. If that is the case, I will test you with my other, lower-level team instead."

"No! I want to battle you for real," Lyra said. "Don't curve the challenge for us! Whatever you have, we'll definitely give back double."

"So be it. The battle will begin now!" the Elder proclaimed; "My greatest ally, I summon you to fight together with me once again on this rare day—Victreebel, show yourself!" Elder Li raised his arms high above his head, his eyes searching the rafters above. With just his words alone, the floor beneath their feet began to quake and sway with a violent tremor.

"What the—" Lyra cried out, flopping and fighting to keep from falling down.

"_Vroooaahh_!" a deafening roar echoed throughout the dark, vaulted ceiling up above. A sweet, sticky smell wafted down—a syrupy scent that was reminiscent of honey and orange blossoms.

Glancing up in peril, Lyra noticed the tower's pillar jolting like it was going to snap in two—and before her very eyes, a tremendous mass of green fell down and landed beside it. The floor underneath the creature broke and splintered up from its weight, and its eyes glowed red like a demon's.

"Son of Bulbasaur!" Lyra cursed. "Is that... thing... a Victreebel?"_ No_ way, she thought;_ it's too freakishly huge to be real! That beast could devour a whole pokemart! Is it a legendary?... That can't be right... _

"_VROAAAAAHH–_" Victreebel boomed– her voice louder than the playing force of a heavy metal rock band.

"I asked for this and I surely received," Lyra said, taking out a pokeball. _This isn't a normal pokemon battle, that's for sure! I can't use Cyndaquil... he's so tiny, it's all over for him if he's crushed by that thing! I need a pokemon that's heavier and can cover more ground to keep away from it. _Taking out a pokeball, she glanced at it before deciding. "Aerodactyl, go!" she bellowed.

_~To Be Continued...~_


	7. The Legendary Victrebell

Instantly materializing into the air, Lyra's pokemon let out a high-pitched roar. Stretching his wings, he swooped through the rafters, shaking his arrow-tipped tail in between flaps.

"An Aerodactyl..." Elder Li murmured, astonished by his appearance; "Amazing."

"He's so beautiful..." Lyra sobbed, sharing the same sentiments.

Aerodactyl circled above the massive Victreebel, trilling and taunting her, causing her to roar and shake her surfboard-sized leaves in annoyance.

"Hm... It's time to make a move then," Elder Li insisted; "Victreebel, scatter your Stun Spore!"

"Kyah– Aerodactyl, Look out!"

Leaping in mid-air, Aerodactyl changed his altitude and flew above the paralyzing spores.

"That was a close one... OK Aerodactyl– Wing Attack," Lyra exclaimed, pointing at the enemy Victreebel.

Cackling impetuously, Aerodactyl dove down and fearlessly faced the monster plant. Folding his wings together, he then lashed them out, launching a rippling energy wave straight at Victreebel's gullet.

"_Vroaaah!_" the pokemon screamed, flailing her leafy arms and wagging her stem-like tail against the blast; falling over on her side from the super-effective attack, the floor jumped underneath her.

"Victreebel, don't give up–" Elder Li proclaimed; "Resuscitate your strength with Giga Drain."

Opening her massive, toothy mouth in response, Victreebel began to weave gleaming, green light spheres from the air, absorbing them into her mouth.

Halting mid-flight, Aerodactyl screeched and dropped to the ground. "Wragh!" Lyra blasted, running over to him. Climbing onto his massive side, she checked his injuries. "Hold in there..." She opened her bag and fished out a potion, spritzing him with it.

"Hm. You've done well, but you're no match for the descendant of the Sprout Tower's 100-foot pillar," Elder Li said, sure that the battle would end soon.

Lyra gasped accordingly. "You mean, a giant Bellsprout really WAS used to make this tower? And this Victreebel here is... related to it?"

Elder Li nodded seriously. "It is a secret, ancient tradition," he said (as if THAT explained anything). "But first, you must know the story of the giant Bellsprout. It is a tale of sacrifice... The giant Bellsprout, wishing to to create a place for both pokemon and people to learn about coexistence, gave up her body to create this tower. Her child, in turn, devoted herself to being this tower's guardian. Victreebel here is the descendant of the guardian... and the current guardian... who was preceded by numerous guardians."

"I see... the giant Bellsprout had such an important message to give," Lyra said, suddenly wondering if she had absorbed this message properly. "Then! It is an honor to battle the guardian... preceded by lots of guardians. We'll learn everything we can from this battle!"

Elder Li nodded. "Show us what you got!" he said, then turning to Victreebel; "And it turn, let's not disappoint! Charge up your Solar Beam!"

Victreebel closed her eyes and began to sway. Tilting her leaves at an angle, she intently focused on the minimal particles of sunlight wafting through the room, collecting it in her leaves.

Wearily, Aerodactyl cowered– his head low and his resolution weakened.

"Aerodactyl... What happened to your intense battle SPIRIT? What can I do to rekindle it?" Lyra questioned, gently touching his massive, slab-like jaw. He stared back into her eyes and shook with frightened confusion.

"It's OK... I'm right here behind you!" Lyra vowed, climbing onto his back. "Gather your strength– we're going to win this together. Let's get airborne!" She grabbed him by his shoulder horn and clung firmly. "You'll confuse Victreebel with a Supersonic frequency on this turn... It's a low-accuracy move, so trust my aim on this! Don't pull away_._"

With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, Aerodactyl cackled, shook his tail spunkily– and leapt into the air.

"What... what are you doing?" Elder Li yelled in confusion, flailing his arms, "Flying on your pokemon during a battle? ...That's too dangerous!"

"Good," Lyra blurted, rising high on Aerodactyl's back; "Because it's time to get dangerous!" She raised a determined fist and ignored all reasoning.

"Foolish child!"_ I can't even remember the last time I saw such a reckless action... __Wait... Or DO I?_ (Elder Li's memory was actually very good for his age.) _I think I remember something now... This kind of treacherous technique is employed by the secret Dragon Master Clan... Otherwise, it's practically unheard of! Doesn't she realize... Solar Beam will hit any time now? This is getting too dangerous, if it hits her too, she might..._

Victreebel closed her glowing eyes and swayed in a circular motion– her leaves shining like they were powdered in diamonds and a powerful aura building above her head.

"Hm." Lyra focused, leaning down and gripping Aerodactyl tightly– the rushing air threatening to lift off her hat. "Turn with me," she told him. Guided by the shifting of her body weight, Aerodactyl flew in short and erratic paths above the dancing Victreebel, as if searching. Eventually, his flight path evened out and they circled the giant pokemon.

"OK–" Leaning up against Aerodactyl's neck, Lyra grabbed his head, taking hold of it like a cannonball barrel. Narrowing her eyes, she forced herself into full concentration. "It's like a game– before we fire, we have a LOT to consider," she told him; "Control response, enemy movement, and elapsed time until impact! We don't have an extra life or a second shot to spare. If we miss, SolarBeam hits us and it's game over! AH, there–" Without another passing moment, she spotted the pattern forming between Victreebel and Aerodactyl's movement– a time intersection when they both crossed paths and momentarily came face to face.

"Three seconds to prepare," Lyra explained, tilting Aerodactyls head down by 15 degrees and left by a few– locking onto the target. "It's show-time–" she shouted, making sure to keep his aim on, "–Supersonic!"

Aerodactyl's hi-frequency blast struck Victreebel directly, and the pokemon's swaying became erratic in response; her stumbling made it obvious that she was now heavily disoriented. Bumbling and tripping, she fell down and hurt herself in confusion.

"Now! The next move can't be done with my dead weight–" Lyra said, gliding Aerodactyl down towards the ground. Jumping off his back, she rolled, got up, and ran past the shaking pillar. "Here it is– Wing attack!" she commanded, nearly running out of breath.

Crossing his wings and lashing them out once again, Aerodactyl blasted Victreebel, causing her to flail and monstrously screech in her blind fury; but she stubbornly remained upright.

"Victreebel's a high level, and Aerodactyl's practically a fledgling... It's understandable that it'll take more than a few hits to knock her out," Lyra reasoned aloud, bracing herself against the seismic shock-waves caused by Victreebel's floundering.

"Victreebel, try to see the enemy! Clear your mind, you need to attack with a Sludge Bomb. When you do this, the battle will be yours," Elder Li coached, trying to soothe Victreebel. Despite his efforts, though– Victreebel kept stumbling and falling, hurting herself in her confusion, and wasting her chances at taking Aerodactyl out.

Dive-bombing Victreebel again and again, Aerodactyl kept coming back and striking her with his Wing Attack, whittling down her strength until she could stand no more.

"Victreebel, no–" Elder Li let out. "Please seize your confusion!"

"This is it– one more Wing Attack," Lyra called out.

Diving at the foe one more time, Aerodactyl lashed his wings– the air sparking electric blue with his speedy onslaught– and fell the mighty guardian.

"_Vroooaaaggh!_" Victreebel roared in defeat, crashing down and finally going limp on the floor, fainted. Her tail slammed into the splintering ground, bringing one last calamity.

"A critical hit," Lyra remarked._ Aerodactyl won..._

"This is. I. I can't believe it. Victreebel... Return," Elder Li emitted, transferring the huge pokemon into a pokeball.

Aerodactyl flew down and landed, bobbing his head in excitement.

"Victory dance!" Lyra yelled, flailing her arms. Aerodactyl screeched in joy and joined in by flapping and chirping. He then began to glow with power– and multiple times, too– in short bursts.

"Huh? Are you upping some levels in strength?" Lyra asked curiously, observing him in marvel.

"Child. When you sent out Aerodactyl, I was impressed by his form but also disappointed by his low-experience. Now... I honestly could not foresee this... You are indeed a trainer with a strengthening respect for her pokemon," Elder Li admitted. "As a reward, take a Flash Technique from the alter behind me. However..." He lingered, moving towards her.

"Huh?" she asked.

He took out a cane and swiftly whacked her on the head with it. "Never hang onto your pokemon during such a dangerous battle! If you had been hit by Victreebel, your pokemon would've survived to fight another day, but you– would be dead!" he scolded; "Cherishing your own life is a part of cherishing your pokemon's. Never forget this."

"Ow... Ok... I'm sorry. I won't do that any more!" Lyra cried, rubbing her noggin– and secretly crossing her fingers behind her back.

"Good. I'm glad you understand now." He sighed.

Acquiring the flash technique and saying their goodbye's, Lyra and her team left Sprout Tower. Though they'd braved their first massive battle, it only fired up their thirst for action and made them ready to next take on the next: the city's gym leader.

* * *

"Hey you– Champ In The Making!" a guy yelled, standing by the gym's 'Winning Trainers' monument.

"Huh? Me?" Lyra asked, pointing to her nose.

"Yes you, come here!" He beckoned.

Clicking across the gym's stone floor, Lyra and Cyndaquil lingered in front of the stairs for a moment to observe the large stage beyond; in its center was a small area of wooden floor with a big button protruding from its center.

"You're a new trainer, aren't you?" the man asked, disrupting them from their thoughts.

"Why is that so obvious to EVERYONE?" Lyra yelled.

"You'll understand one day," he said. "Anyhow, have you heard the low-down on gym leaders yet?"

Lyra shook her head.

"Of course not. So hear this: They're tougher than regular trainers. Falkner uses flying-type pokemon, so you know what that means?"

"They... fly?"

"Yes! Bingo! Now carefully step onto that wooden bit of flooring up there. There you are. Now be very careful as you step onto its center switch. DON'T fall off." He said this as if her and Cyndaquil's life depended on it.

_"_Fall off?" Lyra questioned; "Are we pretending the floor is lava, now?" She always played such games as a child. About to step onto the big button, she paused when she noticed a shadow looming far beyond a gated off section of stage ahead. "Is their something up high, over there?" she asked, taking a step forward. She activated the button, and a croaking noise groaned beneath their feet, abruptly popping up the wooden floor. Cyndaquil screamed and clung to her leg.

"Elevator going up!" the man below yelled.

The entire platform blasted up– creaking and whirring as it shot for the ceiling. Mesmerized by this clever flying simulation, Lyra held her breath and remained still, her heart lurching with the thrill of motion– of gravity pushing down on her. For a moment, she was overtaken by such nostalgic feelings; memories of flying through the air with her father. The platform popped into place, rousing her from her warm recollections and showing her the next floor: a wooden cat-walk shaped like a 'S'.

"Eh? Is it over?" Lyra wondered aloud, an unexpected sense of melancholy hollowing her out inside. "That's no good..." She looked around sadly before clenching her fists in determination. "Let's do it AGAIN."

Cyndaquil let out a wail and clung to Lyra's leg even tighter– little tears rolling down his snout. So sad was this sight, that she instantly discarded her plans.

"I'm... just kidding," she said. "There's no time for goofing around! We must be SERIOUS." And so, taking their first step onto the narrow catwalk, Cyndaquil demonstrated his seriousness by shrieking and climbing on top of her foot. "Huh? Hey, cut that out– you're gonna make us fall!"

"Queee..." Cyndaquil cried pitifully, tears washing down his face.

"Man. You are such a wil' babby... We're only like FIVE stories in the air–" she said, peering down to confirm her guesstimate. When she saw the dark, far-off ground below, however– her eyes bulged out and her stomach nearly dropped to her feet. "Oh crap," she ejected, her legs trembling.

"Quee–queeeee..."

"Stop that! Your fear is contagious!"

"Queeee!"

"ENOUGH. I've been trained for this... I've already survived a two-story jump and I've flown high on Aerodactyl!" she blasted, pointing nowhere in particular. "There's no way some stroll in the rafters is gonna bring me down. Join me and man-up, Cyndaquil! If you can't slam with the best, then jam with the rest." She charged ahead._  
_

Following her shakily, Cyndaquil accepted her challenge and did his best to keep up with her.

The walkway was narrow for most of the way, and despite her quickness, Lyra moved carefully to keep her balance. When it came time to battle the first gym trainer– a Bird Keeper– she relied on Cyndaquil's long-range Ember attack to smite the enemy. Though Cyndaquil refused to move much on the walkway, he easily defeated the first gym trainer and overpowered the next.

"So far, so good. This is turning out to be a cake walk," Lyra stated.

Cyndaquil looked down at the floor and sniffed, perhaps expecting it to be made out of something other than wood.

Finally, traipsing onto a larger platform, Lyra saw one final trainer– a young man with blue hair, traditional garb, and a stern expression. This harsh-looking youth appeared to be only a year-or-so her senior.

"Is that him? The gym leader is a kid?" Lyra whispered hypocritically; "He gives off impressive grouch vibes... Just like Jerkface."

Cyndaquil wasn't too sure about this. Compared to other challengers, Jerkface emitted ultimate grouch AND jerk vibes.

Finally noticing her presence, the gym leader turned and beheld her in expectancy– glaring at her as if he expected her to answer for her unwanted appearance.

"I'm here to challenge you," Lyra explained impatiently.

"Good then..." the young man finally said; "I'm Falkner, the Violet Pokemon Gym leader." He lashed into battle stance, pointing at her accusingly. "I bet you think you can clip the wings of flying-type pokemon with a simple type-_MATCH_, DON'T **YOU**?"

Understandably, the increasing volume of his disciplined voice alarmed Lyra. "Wha... No–" She defended, greatly confused; "In fact, I haven't even really said anything yet..."

"–I won't allow such insults to bird pokemon!" Falkner pledged severely, flapping and flailing his arms– as if he were about to take off. "I'll show you the true extent of their magnificent power–" He swiftly flicked his wrist and revealed a pokeball– slinging it into the battle ring.

Lyra tugged down her fluffy cap until it was nice and snug. "This guy... he's as hasty as a Fearow," she remarked in disturbance; "Something tells me we'll need to be quick if we're going to win!" Turning to Cyndaquil, they both nodded at each other. "OK. Let's CHOP-chop," she blazoned, sending him forward.

_~To Be Continued~_


	8. Kissing Thief

Slamming to the ground, Falkner's pokeball released a sprightly and wildly flapping Pidgey, who soared through the air.

"This is a gym battle, so no holding back," Lyra said, Cyndaquil nodding in agreement. "Line Pidgey on the burner with Ember!" Sliding under the in-flight Pidgey, Cyndaquil turned up his backside's flames and set Pidgey on fire. Trilling, Pidgey frantically flew around with his butt feathers ablaze. "YES—he's on fire now," Lyra said, clenching her fists. "Heck, YOU'RE on fire." She watched Cyndaquil's flames in thought:_ But then again, you're always on fire..._

"Pidgey, fly right!" Falkner said, motioning forward. "Sand-attack!" Courageously flapping, Pidgey stirred up a violent dust devil and swept it at Cyndaquil, who rubbed at his newly sand-blasted eyes in irritation.

"NOO, don't rub it in, you'll make it worse," Lyra cried and pulled at her hat, hyped-up from this new challenge. "OK. If you can't see, just leave it to me. Pidgey at four o'clock—Full Body Quick ATTACK." She spread out her arms.

Fighting his wounded vision, but envisioning Lyra's directions, Cyndaquil launched his hind quarters up and slammed through the air, contacting Pidgey and bringing him down in crushing defeat.

"Taught your pokemon clock position, did you?" Falkner asked. "Very clever. I wouldn't expect that from a new trainer. But the battle's not won yet." He retrieved a pokeball from his blue haori jacket. "Pidgeotto—fight for the name of all flying-types! The wind is finally with us!" Phasing from his pokeball, Pidgeotto threw back his head and shrieked proudly—holding out his lustrous wings in pride.

"Cyndaquil, fall back! Rest your eyes a bit," Lyra said out of worry, recalling Cyndaquil and taking out her next pokeball. "Go! Aerodactyl!" Trilling lowly, Aerodactyl flew out of his pokeball, dove below the battle platform, and then out of sight before rocketing back up in an exhibit of his speed.

"Another flying-type?" Falkner said, watching Aerodactly energetically glide overhead.

"That's right—flying types are an important part of any team!" Lyra said. "Every aspiring champion needs at least one." She raised a fist and jabbed at the air. "But in our case, it's even better, because this Aerodactyl IS a champion. A king of the prehistoric skies. Of time! Aerodactyl, conquer ALL with your rule—Thunder FANG." Coming down on the comparatively slow Pidgeotto in one dive—Aerodactyl clamped the bird in his jaws and shocked him with a plumage of electric jolts. Pidgeotto pulled back incredulously, but it was too late—dropping to the ground, whirling and plummeting in defeat—he touched down and fainted.

"Pidgeotto!" Falkner yelled, unable to believe his eyes. _How can this be? _he wondered, sweating with pent-up tension._ A one move knock-out... He didn't even have time to recover with Roost!_

"Wha... That's good," Lyra said, gawking up at Aerodactyl in stupefaction, her impressed and astonished eyes as small as dots._ Are all gym leaders this easy, or is Aerodactyl just incredible?_ she wondered._ Well regardless, Elder Li could probably give Falkner a run for his toe shoes._

Dropping to his knees, Falkner grasped his chest in anguish. "Father's cherished bird pokemon," he said quietly. "How is this possible? To loose so easily and to such an obvious beginner?"

"Why is that SO OBVIOUS to everyone?" Lyra demanded, outraged by his insider knowledge.

Falkner, quickly overcoming his shock, pondered the meaning of his loss._ Father, you once told me that the winner always has more resolve than the loser,_ Falkner considered. _So does this mean... this girl possesses more resolve than me?_ Reaching into his haori jacket once again, Falkner pulled out a small object and stood up. "Take this. It's the official Pokemon League Zephyr Badge," he said, presenting it to Lyra with serious respect.

"My first," Lyra said, taking the wing-shaped badge in hand, instantly stunned by its shiny collectibility. But in this very moment, Cyndaquil's pokeball fell from her hip and blasted open. On the ground he materialized—crouching and glowing strangely.

"Cyndaquil," Lyra gasped, moving closer to him. "What's going on? Are you powering up?" She was answered by silence. "I know this is all VERY exciting, but please don't explode on me."

"I think he's evolving," Falkner explained, watching the two intently. _She doesn't even know what evolution looks like? _he thought, troubled by this._ I have much to learn if this girl is my superior..._

"Eh? E-evolving?" Lyra stammered, her eyes widening. "Wha—what do I do? Sha—Should I boil water?!" She agitatedly clawed at her pillowy cap. "AH I left my saucepan at home!"

"He's evolving into his next form, not delivering a baby," Falkner revealed, resisting the urge to call her an idiot.

Cyndaquil—remaining hunched—was enveloped in an even brighter light, but after a few moments, did not change. Lyra grew anxious as the moments passed with nothing else happening. "Cyndaquil. What's wrong?" she asked him. _Is evolution supposed to take this long? _she wondered._  
_

"Quiii... cyn diiii... quel," the pokemon explained meekly, hiding in his glow. _I'm... afraid... to evolve, _he said:_ Of changing into something else..._

"I see." Lyra nodded, settling down on her hands and knees. "You're afraid of growing up. Pokemon do it much faster than humans... That does seem scary."

Cyndaquil remained silent. _Is she not mad at me?_ he wondered.

"It's fine! Everyone grows up," Lyra exclaimed, her voice softening as she crawled closer. "And all at different times, too. One day, even I'LL be fully evolved, and you'll wonder what happened to me. Heh. You see, the different kinds of changes for anyone are numerous: physically, mentally, and scarily... It's a blasted lie to say that you'll always be the same person inside and out. Growing up will always turn friends into strangers... But. You always have a choice to make about it. Either to keep your original self—to improve upon it—or let it go... It's a tough decision, and many falter. But, I know you'll grow up splendidly." She put a hand on his side. "Because... you're no ordinary fighter."

"Quil quil." He sniffled.

"You... want a hug?" she asked, leaning into the blinding light and holding him carefully. In her embrace, Cyndaquil began flickering and convulsing.

Falkner gasped when he saw it. _Cyndaquil is resonating with her strong feelings! _he realized._  
_

In Lyra's arms, Cyndaquil's fur brushed past her skin and expanded—his muscles enlarging and pushing out as he grew. As his shoulders broadened and lifted, his audible glowing crescendoed into a painful humming. When he leaned back, overwhelmed by his evolutionary light, it finally stopped, and Lyra saw him full at last—standing strongly on his newly-formed hind legs and staring bravely with his now opened red eyes.

"So... so cool," Lyra managed to say out loud.

"Quilava," he sputtered, his voice still trill, but no longer meek.

"So I call you Quilava now?" _Cyndaquil, _Lyra thought._ I can't call you Cyndaquil anymore. I'm happy, but yet I feel a bit sad..._

Quilava closed his eyes and nodded confidently.

Falkner crouched down next to Lyra. "I finally understand now. The power of encouraging your pokemon," he said. "Here, I want you to take this." Grabbing her hand, he placed a portable CD player-like device in it. "It's a technical machine called 'Roost'," he explained. "Teach this to a flying pokemon, and it'll have more than enough strength to soar through even the toughest battle. It's a technique that heals the user."

Lyra clutched the valuable device close. "Tha—thank you," she said, still stunned by her pokemon's sudden change.

"Keep testing your skills in the gyms ahead. I'm going to train harder to become the greatest bird master—" he said, holding her hand, "—and one day I hope we meet again."

"Mm-hm!" Lyra agreed, shaking it strongly. "We'll definitely meet again.. to BATTLE."

* * *

Trekking down Route 32 was tougher than expected, for the constant onslaught of trainers and wild pokemon made the long route take twice as long.

Lyra, carefully lifting her heels over tall weeds, waited on Quilava with each step. "So I was thinking—" she began, taking another step forward. "—Thinking that maybe you should change your name to something more permanent. Get a nickname, you know... It makes things more personal."

Quilava carefully considered her words before answering. "Qui. Laavaaa," he said, asking what she had in mind.

"Straight to the point, as always." She reached under her hat and scratched. "For a name, I was thinking Monteverdi. It sounds catchy... distinguished even! And refined—a sensible name with meaning... it means green mountain."

Quilava froze, a sweat drop crawling down the back of his head. WHAT meaning? Last time he checked, he was not a steep hill. "La. Va," he replied haltingly.

"Fine, fine. I'll give you some more time to think about it. We can't officially change your name until we're in Goldenrod, anyways," she said, pulling out her trainer card and observing the nice sum of pokedollars on its face. "Hmm... what a wad of dough! With this much, we can afford to splurge when we get there," she thought aloud; "It'd be lovely to get you all some _nice things_."

Quilava was all very well and dandy with this plan to go shopping, but he was also determined to obstruct Lyra'a visit to the Name Rater at ALL costs—forbid she gave him a silly name. He was a dignified individual, after all. With this plan in mind, the two hurried over the route's creaky wooden pier and battled fisherman after fisherman—heatedly indulging in each battle and losing their sense of time as they yelled, fought, and laughed with all the breath in their lungs.

As the sunk sank on the horizon, shadows moved across the earth—and overhead—the magnet train bridge devoured all in its own thick presence.

The magnet train. A train which ran through Johto and Kanto. It ran through this route, as well, and its shadow always lingered on Lyra's shoulder—touching her with invisible tension and chilling her back like a white, disembodied hand. Though she focused on the pokecenter ahead, and the prospect of Union Cave, she was unable to ignore the bridge's consuming presence. Finally glimpsing back at it in the dim light, her eyes quivered with diseased terror and her drumming heart wailed in her chest._ Goldenrod... Am I really fine with going back there? _she thought._ Did I really make myself forget? _"Hh..." she emitted fearfully, holding her face in her shaking hands._ I'm too selfish...  
_

Quilava looked up at her, his eyes widening in alarm when he noticed she was shaking. What was wrong with her? Though he saw nothing to be afraid of, he could tell that an unbearable mental pressure was bearing down on her shoulders—tormenting her with its unending persistence.

"Let's go. Rest. At the pokecenter tonight," Lyra said slowly and abruptly, her eyes blank but her mouth pulled into an unnatural smile. "Ok?"

Startled, Quilava nodded hesitantly and watched her closely. If there was anything wrong, he hoped she would tell him. Arriving at the pokecenter, they bedded down on a bench for the night, and as Lyra fell asleep, Quilava protectively curled up on her chest until he himself drifted off.

In the beaming florescent light of the pokecenter, the nurse, watching the two closely, jolted when the lobby door snapped open. "Good evening, you're up late!" she greeted the boy who came in. It was him, the boy with menacing eyes. Silver.

Ignoring her greeting, he hastily placed pokeball after pokeball on the counter. "Make it quick," he said, hiding his face behind his collar.

_What a rude boy! _the nurse thought, placing the pokeballs on the healing machine. _Such a waste of a good face._.. Hearing a crashing noise in the back room, she immediately forgot her opinions and hurried away to investigate. "Chansey, how could you commit such a crime?" her distant voice scolded. "Such a mess!"

Turning away from the on-going crashing noises, Silver suspiciously surveyed the lobby and froze. Before him, of all people, he found Lyra—fast asleep on the corner bench—and with her fire starter, Quilava, curled up on top.

"You," Silver murmured, creeping on over to her. "Why do you keep appearing before me like this?" Sinking his hands into his pockets, he glared down at Quilava._ So she evolved hers too, hm?_ he wondered, then glaring at Lyra's sleeping face. Her eyes—lightly closed—remained two black lines of thick eyelashes, and her mouth—wide open—drooled with heedless snores. Silver narrowed his eyes in thought._ It's almost as if she's begging to be messed with... _"Hmph. What a fool," he went on to say, annoyed by this display. "Sleeping with such an untroubled expression." Scoffing, he bent down over her and eyed the pokeball attached to her hip. "When anyone—" he revealed, an evil smirk flashing across his face, "—can do this!" He grabbed for it.

"Nn," Lyra grumbled, her body instinctively dodging his attack, and her sudden movement sending Quilava rolling off her chest.

"Oh sh—" Silver hushed and jumped, watching powerlessly as the fire pokemon hit the floor._ He's... he's going to wake up..._ Silver was certain of it.

But Quilava landed, rolled onto his fuzzy underside, and continued snoring just as lazily as his trainer.

"Ha... Ha..." Silver laughed tensely as he watched. "How idiotic..." Once again he reached for Lyra's pokeball, but this time with a slow and trembling hand. Acting with caution, second-thoughts raced through his typically one-tracked mind as he went. These hindrances were enough to drive him into the realm of undivided insanity.

Somehow aware, even in her sleep, Lyra sensed his thieving return. In defiance, she automatically rolled over, sending herself tumbling off the bench's edge.

"Ghe—" Silver grunted and dove— his hands slipping under her. Landing on his knees— and only a step away from Quilava— he swallowed hard. He had somehow caught Lyra in his arms, but consequently in the worst way possible. With his face in hers, and one hand supporting her thighs, his other hand had somehow grasped the right side of her breast. He clenched his teeth._ How... How did I get stuck in this stupid situation?_ he wondered, so disturbed, he began sweating.

Shivering slightly, Lyra wrapped her arms around Silver's neck and clung on, grumbling unintelligibly at him, almost as if she were afraid of falling.

"You!" he spat, alarmed and flustered by this development. "You're just pretending to be asleep, aren't you? Cut it out!"

Pulling his face closer to hers, however, she breathed shortly; warmly.

"Heh?" he muttered, unable to move. Lyra, pressing her mouth forward, drew his bottom lip between hers and squeezed it softly. His face reddened—his breathing stopped—and his brain melted down to his boots as Lyra nibbled lightly before letting go. "Ke—ka—ki—" Silver stammered, his voice and intelligence fading_. Kiss?_ he realized. _A KISS? My first..._

"Cyndaquil," Lyra blurted, her limbs loosening and pulling away. She promptly leaned back and let out a massive snore.

Silver's face went stony—chiseled with disbelief at her utterance. Standing back up, he faced the bench and promptly dropped her back into it.

_Did she just STEAL my first kiss_? he thought, wracked by the insufferable truth: _And just because she DREAMED I was Cyndaquil? _With the knowledge of having received such a kiss—a kiss born from taboo behavior and freakish intimacy—he held his head and wallowed in mental agony. "How DISGUSTING—I can't even—URGH—" he cried, unable to.

_No way, this can't be happening! _he thought on, increasingly flustered as he backed off, and thumping into the counter when he did._ Even in her sleep, she still manages to screw with me!_

"I'm back!" the nurse said, walking into the room. "Sorry about that. Your pokemon are fully healed now."

Silver yelped, thrashing at this unexpected disturbance.

"Uh. Are you OK?" The nurse worriedly set his pokeballs back on the counter. "Here you go. Thank you, we hope to see you again soon!"

Grabbing them, Silver ran out the door and escaped—rushing off into the moonlit night and swearing his revenge.

_~To Be Continued...~_


	9. Slowpoke Dealings

Bending forward, Lyra sat listlessly on the pokecenter bench. "Why does my back hurt?" she wondered aloud, rubbing her neck. _I fell in my dream. __Did it somehow become reality?!_

"Good morning!" the pokecenter nurse chirped, setting down a tray of juice cups and checkerboard cookies. "Did you sleep well?"

"Eh?" Lyra responded, turning her head painfully. "Uh... Yeah. But I had a disturbing dream!" She clasped her overwhelmed face. "Yes, it's coming back to me now. I was climbing Mt. Silver. It was a perilous journey... As I reached the summit, I slipped but hung on, and somehow, I managed to make it to the top. Climbing over, cold and hungry, that's when I saw it: a MASSIVE hill of hot fettuccine alfredo... Naturally, I nibbled on those noodles—and then called Quilava to come join me. Oh, but he was still a Cyndaquil for some reason. Anyways, this was the BEST part of the dream—but then." She paused. "I FELL."

"Uh. Aah," the nurse cooed, forcing a smile. "What a strange dream!"

"Yes. And then I was groped by a perverted Totodile. It chased me all the way to Kanto," Lyra explained, not wanting to go into details. "I must be going through physical changes. I'm having such uncomfortable dreams!"

"Yes. Uncomfortable dreams are an important part of becoming a woman!" the nurse proclaimed, probably making this crap up on the spot. "At this age, girls gain an invaluable skill—the power of future sight—to ability to SEE what's BEYOND." The nurse made a peace sign and held it against her forehead like a pair of antennae. "Womanly ESPer powers!"

"Lady, what are you talking about?" Lyra blurted, standing up. "As incredibly cool as that sounds, we're no Xatu! And I'm pretty sure there's no fettuccine alfredo on top of Mt. Silver... If there was, I'd BE THERE." She growled ravenously and rubbed her belly, all before noticing the awaiting snack tray and cramming her mouth full of checkerboard cookie. Quilava took this as a sign to do the exact same.

"Children today! So rude," the nurse complained; "The cute boy from last night was also like this!"

"Huh. Hey... Don't go comparing me with some boy! I'm a fine, delicate lady," Lyra said, loudly cracking her back and punching out her arms to pop them. "Ah. Got the kinks out!" she said, bending down to hoard some cookies in her bag.

"What's so delicate about that?" The nurse looked away, sobbing.

Fully restored, Lyra and Quilava cleaned up, thanked the nurse, and left the isolated pokecenter. As they hurried through the clearing between it and Union Cave's entrance, an unsavory man stepped forth.

"Hey kid," the man said. "How about a juicy, delicious slowpoke tail?" He held up a package of pink, freeze-dried meat—and rattling it—shook it like bait.

"Blarg! No thanks," Lyra croaked, dismayed by its fleshy, unsettling appearance. "I'd be interested in the other half, though."

The man wrinkled up his nose at her. "Ew! Why would you want to eat all that? The tail is the best part!" He shook the bag again, which ALMOST made it appealing to her.

"Eat it? I mean to catch it." Lyra scratched her face, somehow willing away her vulnerability towards plastic packaging. "Anyhow... No thanks. I don't eat pokemon from strangers." She spun around, proud of her newfound self-control.

"Are you kidding me?" the man sputtered, grabbing her shoulder and sending alarming shivers down her neck.

_Wah, he's gonna mug me!_ "Nnh!" She flailed at the thought of losing her important cash, knocking him away.

Pouncing between them, Quilava stood firmly all fours—growling and arching his back.

"H–heh, you look poor anyways," the man stuttered, backing away from Quilava. "Yeah! No way could you afford such a delicacy... And I thought kids these days were loaded. Ha... hahaha!" He forcefully laughed, running off.

Lyra doubled over on the ground in despair. "Yeah, I'm poor." She sulked. "So what? Does it make me a WORSER person? Doesn't perseverance and powerful character win out in the end?" Standing up, she turned away and slouched over_—_her back emitting a dark aura full of malice. "When I'm rich, I'll buyout their properties and drive them off the edge of a tall building..." It appeared her powerful character had already begun evolving!

"La... va," Quilava said, increasingly worried about her and all the shady guys appearing lately.

"Yeah, there must be a crook community meet-up going on somewhere," she agreed with whatever-it-was he said; "Maybe I should ask Jerkface about it, huh?"

Not dwelling on the subject any longer, the two left—making it to Union Cave and spending the whole afternoon traversing it and slaying Zubats.

When they conquered the dungeon, at long last, Lyra power-walked outside and yelled upon spying some apricorn trees across the road. The road they were on, Route 33, was raining heavily, but Lyra didn't mind—she energetically ransacked the trees despite Quilava's dissidence, but not before finishing a quick battle with Hiker Anthony and exchanging phone numbers. Clutching her hat down tightly over her skull, Lyra led away a very grumpy Quilava, who was dragging behind with wet furrowed brows and soggy drooping ears.

"Feel the rain! It's almost over. Come on, let's run!" Lyra said, dashing through the haze with him. "See? We're almost to town." As they passed through the town's entrance, the rain clouds let up—as if welcoming them—and serene, overcast sunshine filtered through. "Azalea Town," Lyra emitted, opening up her pokegear and reading their map location. "We're a bit far from home... no going back now."

Peering far into the distance, the two paused apprehensively when they spotted another suspicious man guarding the Slowpoke Well entrance. Standing there, at the top of the well's ramp with arms folded, the man scowled toughly and literally made it known (by yelling at no one in particular) that he would never move.

"That daring one-piece uniform... I remember seeing it somewhere before," Lyra thought aloud, analyzing the man's black jumpsuit. "I'm a fashionista, you see, so I have innate knowledge of these things!"

Quilava glanced up at her with childish awe, all too oblivious to the fact that anyone born in the last three years would know about these uniforms—regardless of fashion instinct.

"Ah! I know!" Lyra pointed. "It's a Team Rocket uniform! And I don't think he bought it at a cosplay shop just to be cool. Come on, follow me." Running further into town to confirm her fears, she climbed up the nearby pokemart sign pole to get a bird's-eye view. Panicked, Quilava jumped up at the pole as well, but he was unable to sink his claws into the steel to climb after her.

"It's even worse than I thought," Lyra exclaimed, sliding back down. "Team Rocket—they're all over the place! Quick!" She sliced her hands through the air. "We must gather intell swiftly and invisibly. I will show you the way, little brother, for if you wish to throw, you must first learn how to fall."

Contemplating this stupid proverb, Quilava elevated his neck in the delusion of achieved enlightenment. And so, running stealthily_—_and acting not-so-stealthily by doing needless ukemi rolls (backwards and forwards) across various public surfaces_—_the two dodged inside the town's pokecenter in search of more information. Though it took some persuading on their part, they learned that the town's pet Slowpoke were disappearing. On the rare occasion that the Slowpoke returned, however, their tails were severed. Suspiciously, this all began when Team Rocket arrived. They spent all day finding this out, all due to their urge to roll everywhere.

"That would explain where that rude salesman got his goods," Lyra thought aloud, marching off into the dusk with Quilava (as they were too tired to do otherwise now). "I'm certain of it. Team Rocket is chopping-off Slowpoke tails and re-selling them at outrageous prices!"

And to make matters worse, in just the past few days alone—Team Rocket took the entire Azalea Town Pokemon Gym hostage, to both show off their might AND suppress the people.

"Team rocket is truly evil." Lyra fumed. "I can't believe they're taking hostages and ripping off Slowpokes; making them work their tails off for nothing. It's exploitation... it's slavery... It's work without pay!" she cried as if the last thing was the worst of all. "It's unforgivable... And now, it's time to deal out justice!" Though no one at the pokecenter was interested in taking any action, several people insisted that she seek the help of a certain local in town... a man who wished to drive off Team Rocket.

The famed pokeball crafter, Kurt.

Arriving at Kurt's house, Lyra knocked on his door and waited—only to be surprised when a young girl with brown, springy pigtails answered. "Grandpa?" the girl asked, her eyes puffy and pink—as if they had been rubbed raw.

"Sorry for intruding. My name is Lyra." She bowed. "Is your grandpa Kurt?"

"Yes, he is. He's not home right now, though... would you like to come in?" the girl asked pleadingly; "You will, right?"

Lyra nodded her head slowly, unable to say no.

After seating her guests at the low dining table, the little girl grabbed an hot iron kettle and began preparing tea. "My name is Maisy. Would you like a cup?" she asked.

"Oh, you don't have to do that for us," Lyra spoke, getting up to help her.

"Don't worry, I enjoy having guests." She lifted her eyes and gazed out the window, as if waiting for someone. "I have no one to play with anymore, so it gets lonely..."

"Are you waiting for you grandpa?" Lyra asked, sensing something wrong. "Where'd he go?"

"Slowpoke Well," Maisy said, hunching close to the table. "My Slowpoke went missing last night, so gramps went to the well this morning to go find him. I've been waiting, but grandpa... he hasn't returned yet..."

Leaning next to Quilava, Lyra faced him for a word. "Do you think this girl... has been crying?" she asked him.

Quilava lowered his head and closed his eyes sadly. "Va," he admitted.

Exhaling agitatedly, Lyra faced Maisy and asked, "Have you tried calling him yet?"

"The call won't go through. I've tried all day, and, I don't know what's going on." Cupping her hands over her face, Maisy sat down, suddenly shaking. "Dad's busy with work, so I couldn't reach his phone either—but he gave me Slowpoke for times like this, but now none of them are here—Grandpa, he... What if he—" She stopped and stared out the window. "What if he never returns?"

"Don't SAY that," Lyra blasted, jumping up and slamming her hands down on the table. "His phone might be out of range, or maybe it's broken—or it could've ran out of juice! He'll come back—I'll—" She grabbed the hot tea kettle by the handle and stomped for the door. "—I'll find him for you! I'll bring him back... so don't cry."

Standing up, spurred by Lyra's determination, Quilava followed her into the night—the both of them intent on shaking things up at Slowpoke Well.

* * *

The young Rocket Executive spun around. "Huh? ...Who's there?" he demanded, sensing an indignant presence behind him. Adjusting his eyes in the cave's dim light, he recognized the glowing outline of a blazing Quilava and a small teenage girl. Amused, the Rocket Executive tipped his black cap and smirked._ What are they doing down here in Slowpoke Well, _he wondered fiendishly, _and so late at night?_

"Where's Kurt?" Lyra demanded, and just as suddenly as she'd appeared.

"That old fool? ...You want to find out, little girl?" the Executive asked, readying a pokeball. "If you want... I can even show you what happened to him."_  
_

"Executive Proton!" a female Rocket Grunt yelled, running in on them and panting; "That girl's too strong! She took us out in one go!"

"What?" Proton spat, finally recognizing what he was dealing with: another meddling child taking down Team Rocket yet again. "Tch... I spent three years working up to this," he said, taking out an additional pokeball; "My hard work won't be undone by another child, not yet again. Others may go easy on you, but I show NO mercy... Prepare for a double battle!"

"W-what?" Lyra stuttered, confounded by this weird development. "That's not how it happens! Everyone else does it one at a time!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm _not like_ everyone else," Proton bragged, standing at a smart slant. "I'm an EXECUTIVE."

"An executive? Like..." Lyra scanned him curiously. "A salaryman?"

"No!" Proton shook in outrage. "Like an administrative chief! Do I look like some kinda paper-pusher to you?!"

"Well... if you really want to know," Lyra began; "From a theme standpoint, you wear a newsboy cap, which invokes images of newsstand shouting and troubled inner city life, however, you can instead shout 'security guard' by affixing a metal badge to your cap. For a pure Executive makeover, though, try shoulder pads and a leather attaché case."

"What are you BABBLING about?" Proton bellowed, made completely livid by her style pointers. "Are you making fun of me? What's so wrong about my fashion sense? All the other girls think it's cool—GRR—I'LL DESTROY YOU." Enraged, he smashed the two pokeballs down. "Zubat! Koffing! Go!"

"Man! Learn to take some criticism!" Lyra sent out her pokemon. "Quilava, er, go– Aerodactyl, where's his pokeball?" She fumbled about, panicked into disarray.

"Zubat, attack Quilava with Supersonic!" Proton ordered his pokemon. "Koffing, Poison Gas that Aerodactyl!"

"Aerodactyl, bravely strike Zubat with your fatal Thunder Fang! Quilava, Armor of Wildfire, Dao Jin!" Lyra paused, knowing that last part wasn't QUITE right. _Wait, am I mixing-up attacks?_ she wondered. _I must be __getting overwhelmed... I can't let this pace get to me!_

Poisoned by the gas, Aerodactyl choked while Quilava stumbled around helplessly, already fraught by confusion.

_This is bad! This guy is too fast! _Lyra thought. "Quilava, hang in there! Rev a Flame Wheel up and smash Koffing! NOO, not there!" She stomped and flailed when he instead ran into a wall.

Aerodactyl, turning green from his ailment, clamped down on the Zubat and successfully zapped it down with one strike.

"Are you serious? Did you come here thinking you could mess with our plans?" Proton accused, taking command of his last pokemon; "Koffing, Smog attack!"

"Wing Attack!" Lyra screamed, bracing as Aerodactyl whipped his wings and fainted Koffing with a vicious gust.

"Grr... For a kid to be this good... I didn't see it coming..." the executive said, moving back against a stone wall.

"Hey hey, get with it or don't mess with us you bloodthirsty bump!" Lyra yelled, recalling a bamboozled Quilava and a vomiting Aerodactyl back into their pokeballs.

"You're one to speak, little girl. Get her! Don't let her escape! Ready your weapons," Proton commanded, smirking as four Rocket Grunts rushed in with their hand-held rocket launchers and completely surrounded her.

"No... no way! Team Rocket uses pokemon, not weapons!" Lyra said, hastily checking out her enemies. "What happened?"

"We've changed since three years ago. Continuing our activities underground... We fought hard to make our comeback," Proton explained, confidently crossing his arms. "Children like you won't get in our way again... I advise you to be very afraid of what is to come!" Laughing wickedly, he adjusted his cap and disappeared into the darkness. "Hahahaha!"

Lyra was left facing the four armed grunts. Gulping, she backed away, slowly.

"What's this?" the female grunt accosted, pointing her launcher at the metal pot still in Lyra's left hand. "Looks like you brought a kettle to a gun fight!"

"Are you going to make us some tea?" another grunt taunted. The remaining two grunts guffawed victoriously.

_Oh yeah, I still have this thing, huh?_ Lyra thought to herself, lightly touching the kettle's metal base with her hand. _Ouch! And it's still hot to the touch... Of course that's because Quilava carried it on his back most of the way here!_

"Don't make any sudden movements! Take off your pokeball belt and slide it forward," one of the male grunts cautioned, training his gun on her.

Complying, Lyra dropped the belt and slid it across the ground, her eyes steadily surveying them.

Chuckling to themselves, the grunts eyed the belt, and one of the men crouched down to grab it. This was their one moment of distraction, and Lyra took full advantage of it.

"Hn!" she huffed in determination, readying the kettle in both hands; sprinting forward, she slung the kettle and brought it down upon the bent over grunt's head—branding him with its boiling hot surface and striking him down. "Headshot!" She dashed past him.

"Aghhhh–" he screamed, holding his face in pain and rolling, "–it hurts, it hurts, make it stop, it hurts!"

"The hell?" Another grunt panicked, lowering his gun and jumping in to help him—unsure of what to do.

Capitalizing on their moment of stupefaction, Lyra reclaimed her belt, swung her arm back, and flung a raining downpour of hot water on them—stirring them into a wild fit of shrieking and thrashing.

"D-did you just throw tea water at us?" one gasped.

"That's right," Lyra declared. "You could even say that you're in _steep_... trouble." This line was probably the only reason she brought the kettle to begin with.

They all groaned and fell down.

"Ergh! How dare you make such a stupid pun! Guys, no time for a nap, FIRE," the lady grunt yelled, pulling the trigger on her launcher.

Howling, Lyra evaded each rocket explosion by mere half yards, darting and rolling to escape. With each blast, the rock wall behind her crumbled apart, groaning and shaking from heavy damage. "Quilava," she cried, falling down and rolling when a rocket nearly detonated her butt. "I require your assistance!" She backed away from the crumbling wall and threw down his pokeball, popping him out. "Flame their guns!"

Roaring and heating up his flames, Quilava turned his back on them and stomped, sending out jet of flames which engulfed their weapons. As their outer shells melted, they bubbled and exploded.

"Re... retreat!" the lady grunt screamed.

"This is so embarrassing!" The rest hurried away. "We won't forget this, you brat!" Running for the exit, they shot their escape ropes up and flew from sight.

"Vaaa!" Quilava roared, triumphantly throwing back his head. A rock broke from the ceiling above and thwacked him, cutting his glory short and causing him to wobble around dizzily.

"Agh! Are you OK?" Lyra hurried, checking his scalp. "I think the destruction of the wall behind us compromised the cave's structure! Whoah that was a lot of nerdy words. Anyhow, we need to get out of here." She lead him onwards. "Kurt! Hello, anyone there?" she yelled over the cave's rumbling and thunderous shaking. Running deeper in, she stopped—halted by the Slowpoke bodies skewed about her. About twenty of the pink pokemon sat, dumbfound, with their decapitated tails dripping red with trailing veins and innards.

"This is... glurgh," Lyra choked, her gag reflex triggered by the awful scene. She quickly capped her mouth to hold back her disgust.

"Somebody... there?" an old voice grumbled. Lyra and Quilava searched to their right and found an old man behind a boulder.

"Are you hurt, sir?" Lyra asked, urgently kneeling beside him.

"Those idiots blasted the place, didn't they?" He gasped, sitting up. "Quick, throw the Slowpoke into the water... It's the only way they'll survive!"

Without questioning, Lyra and Quilava rushed to grab up all the Slowpokes, rapidly depositing them into the water. Immediately, the dumbstruck creatures sank, strangely regaining consciousness before paddling away.

"That Slowpoke there," Kurt exclaimed, pointing to a small, scuffed-up one; "Please bring it. It's my granddaughter's."

"Right!" Lyra hurried, scooping up the creature and scurrying back to the old man. "Let's get out of here!" she said, holding her hand out to him. "We don't have much time!"

"I'm WELL aware of that," he grumbled hesitantly, making a dumb pun of his own; "But my back was pulled out... And I... can't get up." He was rightfully embarrassed about it.

Rock by rock, the ceiling began to give way—dust and gravel cascading down and the crackling the stone floor beneath them.

"Hm! I see. We'll handle this, then." Lyra turned to Quilava. "Put out your flames for now!" Lyra told him, placing the tiny Slowpoke on his back. "And hold on tight, like this." Demonstrating, she turned around and grabbed the old man, slinging him up over her right shoulder—like a sack of vegetables.

"Wha—what are you DOING?" Kurt yelled, embarrassed beyond all reasoning. "Are you CRAZY? You're a GIRL, put me down, save yourself, you're going to die—we're going to die!"

"No way man! I'm bringing you home to Maisy. She needs her grandpa! This time... I'm going to do something!" Lyra yelled over the destruction—huffing and panting as she hauled him for the exit. Running with Quilava and Slowpoke in tow, the four of them climbed out—destruction finally ravaging the well behind them.

_~To Be Continued~_


	10. Silver Wants to Battle

"Hold still, Grandpa," Maisy said, pulling the old man's arms up behind his back. Without any indication, she hauled off and slammed her knee between his shoulder blades.

"**Whaam_—_craaack!**"

Lyra flinched_—_her face turning blue in horror.

"Ahh." Kurt sighed, standing up as if nothing happened. "I just felt everything go back to the way it should be." Wobbling around to Lyra, he extracted a pokeball from his pocket. "Though you trashed my precious tea kettle and Slowpoke Well—you have my thanks for helping me out with Team Rocket. Here, have a fast ball," he said brusquely, shoving the pokeball into her hands.

"Ah," Lyra said, turning it over; "Is this made from an apricorn?"

"Obviously!" He crossed his arms, and then added, "And if you have any more apricorns, I can make pokeballs from them."

"Really? Great!" Lyra hurried, opening her bag and scooping out a whole armful. "I've been... hoarding them."

Kurt glanced at them in exhaustion. "It'll take a day... You should get some rest for the night."

* * *

When the chilly morning air rolled in, Lyra pulled her blankets tight, shivered, and squirmed across the futon in search of Quilava. Locating his soft warm, fuzzy rump, she curled around it for warmth, only to disturbed_—_moments later_—_when his hind leg activated and rapid kicked her in the face. Fidgeting and turning, exhausted by her troubled sleep, she finally sat up_—_disoriented by the unfamiliar dining room around her. Momentarily brain-dead, she gazed out the front window_—_and for a brief second, a reddish blur moved from beyond its frame.

"Hua... what was that?" Lyra muttered to herself, wondering what it could've POSSIBLY been. Hearing a strange sound behind her, she broke out into a cold sweat and turned around, coming face to face with Maisy's Slowpoke. His large eyes and tiny pupils stared at her truthfully, and his gaping mouth opened slightly. He let out a passive yawn. Lyra, in turn, let out a surprised, "EH?"

"He's thanking you," Maisy explained, popping out from the adjoining room and then diving onto the futon; she hugged Slowpoke. "When he yawns like that, it means he's being thankful."

"Really? Seems like he's just being plain unassertive!" Lyra responded.

"Lyra, are you up? Come here, I finished the apricorns you gave me last night," Kurt yelled, calling her to his work table. Lyra_—_fixing her bedraggled pigtails and pulling her cap back on_—_hurried over to find all nineteen of her apricorns laid out on his table and all converted into pokeballs.

"Go ahead and take them," Kurt said. "You're going off to Bugsy's gym now, right?"

Lyra piled the pokeballs into her bag before answering. "Well..." She smirked at her feet. "In truth, late last night... after you all went to sleep... We had the insatiable urge to battle! So, throwing on a blanket and putting on my shoes, I walked outside and led Quilava to the nearby gym, our minds abducted by the midnight calling of destiny," she exclaimed, lifting up her outstretched fingers and chortling to herself; it was if she were recounting the tale of how they had descended, daringly, into another world. "And then... while they were still weak from Team Rocket's takeover, we nailed them. Using the enemy's disadvantages against them_—_to attack them when morale has ran out, or perhaps when another enemy has thinned their ranks_—_even these tactics are still a piece of the playing field, or in this case, battlefield. Yes... Hm! Hm! Hm! Such is the extreme way of the warrior," she intoned, her voice deepening from her evil, repressed laughter. Quilava simply sniffed because he smelled the neighbor's breakfast cooking.

"There's something VERY off about this girl," Kurt muttered to himself, frowning with his eyebrows (which was quite impressive). Soon afterward, he fixed breakfast, ate with everyone, and then watched Lyra and Maisy foolishly run around the house with random objects while giggling for unknown reasons. Figuring that Lyra was OK despite what he had witnessed earlier, Kurt nonchalantly welcomed her to drop by anytime in the future.

Lyra, promising Maisy to come back and play sometime, set off once again, but lingered to observe the town in the daylight. Domestic Slowpoke wandered about peacefully_—_as they always had_—_and the townspeople strolled through the streets, all amiable and enjoying their returned peace.

"A happy ending for now..." Lyra said, locking eyes with Quilava. "But I wonder where Team Rocket ran off to?" Earning a troubled snort from Quilava, she took him to the gatehouse leading out of town._ If I ever run into those criminals again... just what would they do to me?_ she wondered, glimpsing at the dark trees of the forest canopy beyond the gatehouse._ Would they remember my face? Would they lock me up, like that city once did?  
_

The forest beyond the gatehouse_—_lush and green_—_was the same one responsible for offering her dreams and wishes back when she had none.

Ilex Forest.

As fluttering Pidgey flew up from its rattling leaves and swaying branches, Lyra once again felt soothed_—_protected by the encompassing cover of the forest and the little wooden guardian shrine at its heart.

Regret, like a splinter, had lodged itself through her spirit ever since her father's death; because of it, she had always wished to go back to change or relive things. She knew it was impudent, but if it were possible, she wanted to ask for just one more blessing. If the forest guardian could defy time, like it did before, then...

Harsh footsteps and the crunching of earth from behind alerted her of an oncoming enemy.

"You now_—_" Lyra spat, her whole body on edge._ Are they back already?_ Her mind quaked in thought: _B__ack to finish off the job?_ Spinning around and facing her tormentor, she instantly eased up when she saw it was only Silver. "—Jerkface?" She held her hand over her heart. "Phew! For once... I'm actually glad to see you." She laughed and lazily closed one eye.

"Glad?" Silver repeated, frowning at this foolish attitude she still had towards him._ She can't be happy to see me...__ is she drunk or something? _he wondered, thinking she ought to be more mindful of him._ What kind of stupid face is she making, anyway? She must be mocking me again!  
_

"Yeah! 'Cause you know, you're not so bad," Lyra continued, crossing her arms, "compared to REAL, hardened criminals."

Silver gritted his teeth and repressed the urge to shove her. _DON'T compare me to those cowards,_ he raged inwardly; _You have no right to mention them and I in the same sentence! _But as much as he wanted to say this aloud, he lost himself to the preservation of his cold outer image and so stood there, silently._ But does this mean that she DID see Team Rocket? So then, the incident at Slowpoke Well wasn't just a rumor._.._ Tch, well never mind that. She'll pay for insulting me just now._

Silver slipped his hands into his pockets and leered off into the distance. "It's astonishing," he stated; "You think you know what real criminals are like? Your insolence really is limitless. Everything you know about this world is just spit on the sidewalk... What an idiot."

"WHAT?" Lyra yelled and raved, waving her fists wildly at him. "What's your problem, boy? It's like you always want to start a fist fight with me—you want it that badly? HUH? Hrm! COME AT ME." Quilava latched onto her right leg and weighed her down, struggling to hold her back from her impending attack.

Silver laughed inwardly at her reaction. He had been closely following Lyra ever since she beat the Azalea Town Pokemon Gym. Watching from one of the gym's high windows, he had seen her battle._ It was a slaughter, _he recalled;_ Her team completely swept the gym trainers with single moves._ It was true that her team had multiple type advantages over them—but somehow, she had managed to waste Bugsy's Scyther with some pathetic Bellsprout. A grass type. The girl must've thought she was being cute.

He couldn't wait to crush that excessive ego she had amassed. To bring her back down to square one and make her feel the hopeless feeling of failure—to him, he figured, it would be incredibly satisfying. And it would be valid revenge for the horrible anguish she had dealt him. No matter how much he concentrated, her warm breath and sleeping face kept poisoning his mind like a disease and urging him to seek her out. To win against her. Training excessively in Union Cave, he could only think about the moment they'd meet again.

_I waited. After she defeated Bugsy, she vanished back inside Kurt's house and slept. _Silver continued to think about the events which lead up to this encounter:_ I could only sit outside and watch her. Yes. I had waited long hours in the cold, constantly checking through the window to see if she had woken up... plotting my revenge, and now..._

"Heh..." Silver chuckled, smiling underneath the shadow of his lowered face. "Tell me something," he said. "Is it true Team Rocket has returned?"

"It's true," Lyra said with unexpected seriousness. "Those criminals—the ones who threatened Kanto three years ago... I busted Slowpoke Well and beat them, but..." Lyra stopped, wondering if it was safe to reveal anymore information to him. After all, Professor Elm had warned her to keep her guard up, and furthermore, she didn't think the boy was quite yet a dependable ally of justice yet.

"...What? _You_? Beat them?" he inquired mockingly, his jealous irritation now apparent. "...Quit lying. Team Rocket is too big of an operation to be beaten by a wimp like you."

"Well now, Jerkface. You sound like a Team Rocket expert," she said, pulling out a pokeball. "So let's do a test, then... You just might be convinced of the truth!"

"Fine... let's see how weak you are," he retorted, exhilarated by this challenge. Rifling through his jacket pocket, he selected Gastly's pokeball and so threw him into battle. "Get out there and crush them!"

"Let's go! Quilavaaa—" Lyra exploded and flexed her muscles, all while seemingly crying at the sky, "—Show your foe the blinding future of tomorrow, cradled in your design! Embrace it with the burning pull of brotherly love, justice, and unending friendship!" And by all those things, she meant fire. "Accelerated... Endless... Ember!"

"Vaaaaaah!" Quilava's voice boomed with hers as he out-sped the ghost pokemon. Moving first, he slid under the wide-eyed ball of gas and torched it with Ember.

"Gaaaah!" Gastly groaned, besieged by incredible flames and almost put out from the fight.

"No! Are you kidding me? That is... you're so weak!" Silver yelled, upset by this quick and unanticipated upheaval. "Damn it, make yourself useful and just off yourself with Curse."

Obeying his master, the Gastly summoned a pin, stabbed himself, and fainted.

_Harsh thing to say..._ Lyra thought, taken aback by Silver's spitefulness towards his own comrade. _I mean, I always knew he was a Jerkface, but..._ She thought he would've lightened up a little after gathering a few pokemon and enjoying some battles alongside them. His attitude was severely indicative of some deeper issues, but instead of blaming him further, she instead attributed it all to the 'serious business' attitude maintained by most male trainers.

Gastly's curse, a parting gift, loomed over Quilava and tormented him with all its ill intentions. "Quilava, come back!" Lyra said upon seeing this, switching to another pokeball_._ "Go Bellsprout!" she called.

"Croconaw!" Silver shouted at the same time. He scowled when he realized his bad choice. _Damn it! I should've called out Zubat!_

"You've got the advantage, Bellsprout. Show me your spirit! There is no vice beyond the reach of your noodly vine!" Lyra cried; "Mega Vinewhip Attack–"

Uncurling his hidden tendrils, Bellsprout shook his leaves and shot his vines out—slapping and whipping Croconaw silly.

"Croconaw! You dud, hurry and bite him!" Silver screamed. _No, this battle is going all wrong! _he realized._ All the other trainers fell so easily. I trained hard, so why is she...  
_

"Bellsprout—tough it out, you can do it!" she exclaimed, raising a pointer finger in the air. "Do what you thought you couldn't like you know you could! Think beyond the bounds of logic and gun it all out—do the impossible!"

Bellsprout, torn by Croconow's biting jaws, fell back but then flopped back up. With his balance readied, just like it was at the start of battle, he shook his leaves in determination and focused his beady eyes.

_Why does that weed look so recharged? _Silver pondered in upset_; He just got wounded! Does that stupid girl screw with her pokemon's heads, too?  
_

"Thousand Arm Vinewhip Attack, shake him up—left two and right! Let's see him snap those jaws," she blasted, her face beaming in violent excitement.

Silver gawked at the overwhelming scene, held powerless against the asininity occurring before him._ What is she even telling her pokemon? _he thought, unable to understand any of her anger-inducing speeches._ Is she speaking in some kind of secret code?_

Croconaw—whipped into a spin—twirled around thrice before landing on his back, fainted.

Silver grunted furiously and scowled so hard at Lyra's antics, his face ALMOST got stuck. Recalling Croconaw, he sent out Zubat. "Say," he said to her, losing himself with the fight, "You've got a lot of nerve, coming here..."

"Mwahaha!" Lyra belly-laughed and held out a pokeball. "Then get a taste of ALL our nerve, rival!" she yelled: "Bellsprout, return." Withdrawing him, she then threw out a new pokeball and bounced it off the ground. "Go! Aerodactyl!"

Beaming onto the battlefield, the prehistoric beast bobbed his head twice and belted out a warbling roar.

"We've got rock nerves!" Lyra declared, just as hyped-up as he was. "You finally ready for some action, battle junkie? King of the skies! Roar through time!" She chopped her arms through the air stylishly to stress this senseless proclamation.

Silver shook in silent anger._ You can't roar through TIME, _he thought;_ You idiot!_ "But this now... What kind of pokemon IS that thing?" he said aloud, clenching his fists and doing a double-take. "Some sort of gray Charizard?" He had NEVER seen her use this chiseled monster before, so its abrupt appearance was intimidating; clearly, it was not some common pokemon found on the nearby town routes._ How could she get such an exotic pokemon already?_ At last, it occurred to him. _Was this what caused all the commotion back at the Cherrygrove Pokecenter?_

"There's nowhere for him to run," Lyra said, totally into the fray. "Finishing Swoop, Fatal Thunder Fang!"

Dashing forth and grabbing Zubat at super sonic speed, Aerodactyl chomped down on the tiny bat and zapped him with the full electric charge rumbling through his fangs.

"This is ridiculous!" Silver yelled, watching as Zubat dropped to the ground, fainted. "Listen, you... You only won because my pokemon are weak." He trembled, a new muddled throb of hatred pulsating through his veins.

"What are you talking about?" Lyra said and stared at him. "Your pokemon are fine."

"Shut up..." He didn't want to hear her dismiss him any further. "I hate the weak! Pokemon, trainers. It doesn't matter who or what." He gripped his fists, his mind swarming with thoughts of furthering the violence by attacking her. Fortunately, light-headedness put-off this idea and quelled him with the abrupt nausea it brought._ This disappointment inside... It makes me want to run off screaming and crying... I want to choke her... It's disgusting!_

"Hate the weak? What a weird thing to say after losing, boy!" Lyra said, her eyes watching him with interest now, but not with the kind he wanted. To his alarm, she actually seemed incredibly worried about him. "Jerkface! Are you ok? H...hey." She opened her bag and pulled out berries by the handful. "Is it your belly? Do you need something to eat?"

With his balance wavering—Silver lost his sense of direction, and right then and there, reality blurred around him. Feeling himself falling forward, his vision flashed white, and a warm sensation melted over him as he faded away. The last thing he felt was the ground smashing his face.

_~To Be Continued...~_


	11. Ethan of the Forest

_I lost... to that idiot girl. _

_And now, where the hell am I? _Silver wondered, still locked into his fainted state._ It's too quiet, even if it sounds like waves... Am I... back home? My face feels too cold for the warmth over my body..._ Waking up, Silver perceived nothing but the blurred vision of a crashing jade ocean above him, which plunged him into bewilderment—at least until he focused his eyes and saw it was all merely the trees and a clear plastic bag of cold water sloshing on his forehead.

Only after contemplating the things did he finally notice her.

In the green, diffused light, he saw Lyra's crouching back—her knees pulled close to her chest and her head hunched over.

Where _were_ they? Why was she just squatting there nearby, stuck in the fetal position? Observing her for a few minutes, he realized that there was something uncomfortably melancholy about her, all the way down to the slight and repetitive bending of her loafers. Though it was difficult to notice at first—it became apparent that she was minutely rocking back and forth on her heels—swinging like a soulless tree branch in the breeze. She just kept going. Where was Quilava?

Where was all that hot-blooded bravado just now?

_Wait, weren't we just in town?_ he wondered, a shiver crawling up his neck as he continued to watch her. Significantly creeped-out by the girl, Silver removed his melted ice pack and lifted himself upright—a red blanket falling down off from him._ Why is all this crap on me?_ he wondered; _I didn't ask to be nursed back to health by her! What is she thinking?_ He quietly groaned, holding his head. _That's right, I fell on my face..._

"I didn't take you to the pokecenter. I figured you'd get arrested," Lyra said, now sitting perfectly motionless—her back still turned to him: "Elm told me he filed a police report against you. That was some time ago, though."

"I don't need your help," Silver snapped, throwing the red blanket far away from himself. It smelled like her—disturbingly edible, like a dessert._ Was she by my side all this time?_ he questioned himself, sheepishly hiding his reddened face with his hand. "How did you get me here?" he demanded.

"I carried you," she replied quietly, standing up; "Don't worry, I was careful." When she turned around, her gaze was unfocused—as if she was staring far off into an undisclosed distance. She was clearly grappling with something greater than the weight of her journey, her battles, herself, and especially him. Collecting her discarded blanket, she rolled it up and packed it into her bag.

_Carried me?_ Silver repeated in thought._ Piggyback? Fireman carry, or... bridal carry? Which one would be the worst?_ He felt his pride tortuously dying, the shame almost mentally crushing his spine. _It doesn't matter—I'll never be able to live this down. I was just another obligation to her!  
_

Standing there like a halfwit—Silver waited for Lyra to turn around and say something else. To make a stupid joke or speech to show off how obnoxious she was. Or at least look at him.

But she just kept walking—not looking twice and not paying him a second thought—and like this, she disappeared into a fold of trees.

Like he didn't even exist.

_Yes, that makes sense..._ he thought. He was not yet distinguished and formidable enough._ That_ _man—_he realized—had done the same thing to him.

"Stupid..." Silver spat to himself, his face burning from even greater embarrassment. _I lost, miserably—and then I got Loser's Sickness. And in front of her too... That's right, I passed out from losing a pokemon battle. And then I had to be babied like this... Of course I'm completely forgotten by her now. I'm such a weakling. I'm so stupidly weak. Insufferably weak... Pisses me off!_

Rubbing his forehead, he paused to check his pokemon. They were all healed._ Did she do that for me? Why?_ He kept wondering, questioning the condition of things... How long had he been asleep? Was she not by his side the entire time?

_Why did she look so sad?_

"Idiot!" Silver yelled, admonishing himself. _Stop asking yourself so many questions!_ _She's just messing with your head again! Playing mind games!_ No longer able to bear it, he ran away—dashing between the trees.

* * *

Out of breath after a dash to the middle, Lyra stopped. _A whisper in the air, one too faint to understand... A childish voice, _she thought, falling to her knees. She touched the decrepit, rotting shrine with her fingers. _I'm in the right place... didn't you say you could take me back to then?... If I found you? _"Right... but that itself was just a dream. It didn't mean anything," Lyra muttered, laying face down on the forest floor. The silence lulled her away to the depths of her mind._ Three years ago when I was eleven... It's been that long?... This forest seems the same, though. But that was then—_

"Dad," she could still remember saying these words; "Are you finally taking me to Goldenrod with you? Are you, are you?"

_The whir of the train. And the words I said to him... Yes, I remember them still._

"You are?" She had been so happy when her dad finally agreed. She had begged him over and over.

_Night fell on the construction site—the shadow of the train station making it difficult to see._

"I designed it to be faster than flight... Lyra. Our dream is finally a reality... the uniting of the two regions, and one day, all regions," her father had said; "Do you want to be the first of the public to ride it?"

_The magnet train..._

"Yes, Dad—I want to, I—"

_The wind rushing outside the tiny demo shuttle's window—the sparks sent upwards through the darkness, pitting the glass. And then the shrieking sound of bending metal. I stopped remembering the rest; but I couldn't forget the worst thing. Waking up in the morning light. A white hand—his hand—sticking out from a pile of twisted steel. Like it wasn't attached to anything anymore.  
_

Lyra pressed her face into the damp, loamy earth. For some odd reason, it still felt good. There was no explanation for why it did, and trying to think about it would take away the preciousness of its effects, just like banging one's head against a mattress, or rocking back and forth._ After dad's death—the accident—and after everything that followed, I escaped from Goldenrod, pulled to this special, hidden place._

The shrine stood secretively—silently—a now voiceless witness to all her troubles.

"The guardian of the Forest, it showed me a fairy tale," Lyra mumbled into the dirt, her heart beating rapidly; "It helped me escape from reality, that reality."

_Of imprisonment,_ she thought. _After the fear, the loneliness, and the despair, I encountered a dream which protected me all because I believed, "Something magical will happen, and it'll take me away to a different world." A hidden place beneath the ground. Maybe a haven back in time. It was true—the guardian of the forest was always watching over us—the sign said so. One day, dad would be brought back with time itself. Someday. And then I wouldn't have been so selfish._

Lyra felt the burning in her eyes, and her nose could no longer draw in easy breaths._ I laid motionless right here for hours, just like this. And for the first time in days, I felt happier than ever._ Closing her eyes—it was a cheerful thing. She quietly chuckled herself to sleep, and let the hot tears rinse away those matters.

* * *

"Lyra," a low, gentle voice woke her.

Alarmed—she jolted up.

"It's okay, it's me, Ethan," he said, kneeling down beside her. His eyes were wide—bright, but echoing with concern.

"What are you doing here?" Lyra asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I should be asking you the same thing! I was coming through here to visit my grandparents—ah, wait—" he stopped her hand and gently lifted up her chin. "Don't do that, you'll get dirt in your eyes," he said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping her face.

"Nh," she muttered, wanting to speak but having to close her mouth.

"That's a good girl. All better." He grinned, chuckling and then patting her head. "Geez, you're still UNRESERVEDLY like you were when we were little kids."

"No way, I've evolved!" Lyra exclaimed, mildly insulted. "And don't call me that!" Marill tiptoed up to her, jumping in excitement when he saw her. "Hey. You came along too, huh?" Lyra scratched Marill behind the ears. He squeaked in delight.

Ethan extended his hand down to her. "Come on, let's get out of here." He shone in her eyes, now breaking past the cursed barrier between them in a significant act of cosmic (and now awesome) defiance. "You'll catch a cold sleeping out here. Remember? There's a warm bed waiting up ahead for you."

Taking Ethan's hand, Lyra gawked up at him, uncertain of what he was referring to. After all these years, he still accepted her, and just as if a day has never passed between them._ Right now,_ she realized;_ for some reason... He looks really cool and heroic. Like he can really take me somewhere else. This must be because our bond was unbreakable all along... Even though we grew apart, we instantly reconnected... _

_My important childhood friend._

Pulling Lyra to her feet, Ethan grabbed hold of her legs and then threw her over his left shoulder, head-first. "What was that about changing? Ah, it seems I have!" he bragged maniacally, easily carrying her with one arm and abducting her like a primitive human. "Have you always been this UNSUBSTANTIAL? I suppose so, I guess it's too late for you to catch up now, huh!"

Lyra yelled out in bewilderment, clawing onto the back of his shirt and then her hat. "NOOO. What are you doing, you Mankey, you Primeape! Hgrrrr," she growled, biting his shoulder and causing him to yelp in pain. _Being carried like this is humiliating! _she realized._ I'm so sorry Kurt! And Silver..._

"Oo-oo-eee-ooo-Eeeee—" Ethan chattered and jumped about, rattling her around as payback. "Sacrifice! Sacrifice!" he broke out into chant, which was a well-timed reference to one of their old childhood injokes.

"You remembered, you magnificent doofus!" Lyra exclaimed, all before exploding with laughter._ I can't believe I actually thought he was cool just moments ago. But... When was he ever able to lift me up so easily? And with one arm, too? Things have really changed. He's almost kind of... manly... _She stubbornly shook the thought away. _Ah—No way. 'Manly Ethan' is an oxymoron! _

Carrying her onward, Ethan tried looking back at her and got whacked on the nose instead. He grinned with an invincible calmness, bearing all her senseless insults and violent attacks. He already knew; that was just how she dealt with her problems._ Lyra... You were crying about your father before, weren't you? _he thought, unable to speak with her about everything._ I found you here the same exact way—three years ago. Asleep—face down in the dirt in front of the shrine. You looked so pitiful... the only thing I could do was carry you back to my grandparents' house._

_I'm sorry, Lyra. I'm so stupid—I was a coward who could never say anything wise or comforting to you, or even Crystal. And only when you finally left did I finally realize this. But... at least I'm so stupid I can make you laugh. Rewarding me with your smile—you're only reinforcing this stupidity of mine..._

Up in the dense trees, Silver stood, glancing down and searching. "I thought I heard a girl scream," he said to himself, thrown into agitation when he considered all the awful possibilities. With a scoff, he found himself blaming HER for all this. _Taking off into a dark forest, alone—running around in those stupid short shorts, _he mentally bashed her._ Doesn't she have any common sense? Idiot girl!  
_

When he saw the scene below him, however, Silver froze. He saw Ethan, the pathetic boy from New Bark Town, holding Lyra with both his arms, wrapped around her tightly, and supporting her on one of his irksomely frail shoulders. The two were even closer together than last time—practically inseparable—laughing, arguing, and reminiscing. The boy's weakling Marill even skipped happily behind them, blessing them with adoring glances, waves, and smiles.

Silver's face contorted in revulsion. "It seems... There was nothing for me to worry about. A wimp for a wimp. Clinging in numbers for safety," he explained, looking away; "That's how it works." But it was just so repulsive to him—so much so—that it made him inexplicably angry. In a sense, he felt betrayed; unreasonably, he felt as if Lyra had lied to him about something. In actuality, he didn't want any other guy to touch her. His hands shook and his arms went numb in an attempt to ignore this developing rage, but it only spread. Underneath this turmoil, however, and at the base of it all was just one thing. A young and naive heart. "Forget this. This is stupid!" he said, not paying any more attention to the matter and slipping off into the tree foliage. If he had stayed there any longer, he already knew what would've happened. He would've stopped them.

* * *

"Grandma!" Ethan said. "Let me introduce my friend. This is Lyra!"_ I think Lyra was fully unconscious back when she first came_ _here_, he added mentally, remembering the time three years ago;_ So I'm sure they've never been properly acquainted._

"Ah ha. This is your girl... friend," Grandma said, nodding her head interestedly; "I see. Hmm."

"What? Grandma...!" Ethan ejected and began to sweat, his face glowing red in effect. _Don't tell me Grandma doesn't remember Lyra from that time..._ "What are you talking about?" he stammered; "She just happens to live nearby..."

"Hahaha. I know. I know," Grandma crowed. "Since you brought her here, Ethan, you must be sure of her talent. Right, Lyra? Why don't you stay awhile, you're covered in dirt and you appear quite tired from your journey!"

"Uh," Lyra began uncertainly, "Ok, but—"

"—Excellent! Scrub up and soak in the hot spring. Come along," The old woman crowed, smashing a button on the counter and creaking the daycare gate open. Leaving her station, she determinedly grabbed Lyra's hand and led her off.

"Grandma!" Ethan called, running after her in concern for Lyra. (His grandmother was kind of insane, so he had his reasons.)_  
_

"Ethan, no! It's true we gated the hot spring ever since trainers kept dipping in it... But there's no divided sides..."

"Huh?" His shoulders drooped, confused by what she was saying.

"So you can't bathe together..." The giddy old woman blushed.

"Gyeh!" Lyra choked at this.

"T-that's not it!" Ethan spat, turning even redder and shaking his arms neurotically.

"Never mind him. In here, deary!" the old woman said, leading her into the hidden indoor section of the daycare. It was a paradise. A verdant grassy field with beautiful, shady trees. Flowers lined the wood-decked walkways and a massive, white gazebo stood in the center. In the far off corner was a bamboo gated hot spring with an elevated waterfall.

"Whoa..." Lyra emitted—taking it all in—awestruck. _How'd they cram all of THIS in here? _she wondered, never expecting an actual answer._  
_

"We've been doing so well lately, that... We just couldn't help but renovate a bit. I designed most of it," the old woman bragged, smiling at her creation. "Anyway, on certain days, we let the pokemon in to wash off and then soak! But it's not a bath day, so you'll be all alone. Here's a towel. Holler if you need anything." She swung open the large bamboo bath door for her.

"But my clothes," Lyra said, resistant to being ushered off to a strange bath like this.

"It's just like a bathhouse, you know! Drop them in one of those baskets and leave them outside, I'll bring you a fresh robe."

"O...okay. Thank you." Lyra bowed, going into the bath enclosure as the old woman left her.

Alone once again, Lyra shoved the large bamboo door shut and looked around. Astonished by the steam rising off the large, river stone bathing area, she traipsed over to the low wash stalls where she discovered a wall unit which released copious amounts of powdered soap with each pump. "Powdered soap? POWDERED SOAP?" she cried with undue animosity. "You believe an era can erase our bitter past? I can't forget all the unforgivable things you've done... no, I distrust you!" She hit the pump repeatedly, submitting the soap to absolute carnage as a testament to her epic and unreasonable grudge. In this moment of righteous self-distraction, she forgot to lock the bathhouse door.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

**And now a demonstration of Lyra carrying Silver...**

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	12. Bathhouse Episode

"So, uh. Quilvava," Ethan began, the both of them seated across from each other at his grandparents' dining table. "You don't like water much, do you? I mean, that's why you didn't join Lyra in the bath..." He paused and laughed in a unsure manner. "Or so I EXCOGITATED."

Sniffing at the snack plate before him, Quilava glared at Ethan for only a second before obstinately huffing and snapping up a mouthful of crackers.

"Seems you two got off to a bad start!" Grandpa said, amused by the lightning-strike pull of tension between them.

Ethan, after an exchange of intense stares, sighed and straightened his pillow seat. For some odd reason, Quilava had been shooting him such dirty looks all evening._ Just what is that pokemon thinking?_ Ethan wondered, trying to smile and assure him no harm was meant._ He hasn't said anything. Is he still mad at me because of that battle with Marill? _Ethan glanced over at Marill, who was busy snacking as well. What was peculiar was how Quilava didn't appear to have any problems with the water-type. In fact, they even shared snacks a few times._ Strange... but here, they're not the only ones acting strange. _"You and grandma, " Ethan said suddenly, addressing his grandpa, "You two don't really remember Lyra, do you?"

Grandpa held his coffee mug, firm, in deep thought; he could actually sit like that for hours, and still look like he was arriving at a conclusion.

Ethan exhaled, immediately giving up on his grandfather's memory. "She came here three years ago. She was... the girl who had passed out in Ilex Forest. Her father was the head engineer for the Magnet Train construction project, and since we've been neighbors in New Bark—"

"—I remember, boy! It just came back to me," the old man interrupted; "Horrible freak accident that was..."

"Lyra? That was the girl?" Grandma said, impossibly crawling out from underneath the low table.

Ethan screamed and fell over—and then he wondered how dear Grandma even got down under there in the first place, especially considering she'd been in the hallway closet only moments before._  
_

"It was all over the news at the time," the old woman went on. "It delayed the completion of the station and railway."

"At least that girl seems to be doing well these days," Grandpa said and nodded. "Just by looking at her Quilava, you can tell she's a lively trainer."

"Yeah... She's been doing alright," Ethan thought aloud, his eyes leading downwards.

"What's wrong, Ethan?" Grandma demanded, tapping the boy's shoulder with her bony fingers. "You're so quiet! Are you upset about something?"

"No!" Ethan started in defense. "I'm just feeling tired."

"Is that so? Well after Lyra's done with her bath, we should have dinner and then settle down for the night." Grandma stood up. "Anyhow, I'm going to keep looking for that thing."

"Thing?"

* * *

Ocean waves rumbled and crashed against the western rock barrier—its sound amplified by the stillness of the night and the hollow echo from the distant city. Silver stood there reluctantly outside the pokemon daycare center, his hands warming in his pockets as the wind whipped his hair out of shape. _A place like_ _this_, Silver recalled; _is_ _familiar_... A daycare center. _Is there an old woman and old man here, too?_ The only thing missing was an ocean on all sides and a large patch of red flowers on the hill beyond; but there was no hill here. _Just another pointless memory of something long gone... _

"Hn," Silver muttered to himself, eager to move onto business. "Pokemon who come to these kinds of places become stronger..." He stalked closer to the center's wooden fence and leered through it. "So then, there must be strong ones in there now..." Furtively glancing on all sides, he stepped back for a head start and ran up the side of the fence—flinging himself over and landing gracefully in the daycare's grassy yard below.

It didn't take Silver long to notice the large, open entryway leading inside the daycare. "Not even a garage door or anything... How careless," he said with smug self-importance before continuing. When he made it inside, however, he was struck speechless and impressed by the deluxe indoor paradise. A grassy garden with lush plants and trees welcomed him in on all sides, and a huge, well-thatched bamboo wall in the distance hid a spraying, stone-lifted waterfall which gushed down from the top of the high, darkened ceiling.

It took Silver awhile to snap from his daze, but when he did, he regained his urgency in full effect. He glimpsed down at the curled forms of pokemon sleeping at his feet._ Pidgey, Rattata, Jigglypuff, Sentret, Bellsprout..._ He evaluated them all, but then disappointment stung and filled him with disgust. "Just a bunch of weak, common pokemon! Where's the good ones?" Silver cruelly denounced them all, storming past the central white gazebo._ None of these are any good. I need something amazing, _he thought;_ something that'll top that idiot girl's Aerodactyl. _

_And something that will pulverize that stupid boy and his Marill..._

Silver's bad temper surged when he recalled Ethan. Though he had never spoken directly to the wimp—and only ever saw him from afar—Silver already knew he couldn't stand him._ Next time I see him, I'm going to shove him into the pavement and give him a tough boot to the..._ A heavy splash sounded beyond the bamboo wall, killing Silver's rage and spiking his curiosity. "Hn?" he huffed and perked his ears._ There's obviously a waterfall behind here, but that splash just now. It was a big splash._ Searching the length of the wall for an entrance, he moved hastily and indulged himself in thoughts of discovering an impressive creature within. _Something big made that splash, I just know it. And whatever it is, it's being kept hidden behind this huge wall... Just what kind of pokemon is it? It must hold insane potential..._

When Silver found the unlocked door past the wall's sharp left corner, he cautiously pushed it open and peered on in. Past the door, all within the steamy enclosure, was a large, natural-styled hot spring. A spa. And in the water was a girl. Silver nearly fell over when he saw her._ Is that?..._ He cut his thoughts off, unable to believe this chance meeting. But there was no mistake; despite the rising steam, he could still recognize her.

It was Lyra._  
_

The girl rested by a nearby ledge, her eyes closed and a towel perched atop her head—and her bare arms and chest hugging a jutting boulder with her slick and feverish skin. She was breathing heavily—practically snoring in her relaxation. Or drooling, seeing how something like water continued rolling off her lip.

She was naked. Silver had noted this to himself several times already. Naked!  
As his eyes drifted down to the water—to try and discern Lyra's submerged lower body—shame burned away at his face and he finally tried to look away (honestly). But he couldn't. In fact, he realized it'd be impossible for him to resist his brainless compulsion to watch, because considering all probability, chances were he would never encounter this scenario twice. Not with an unpredictable factor like her. _N-not that I WANT to..._ he mentally added, just to convince himself that he wasn't a huge perv.

And so, to put his ogling to good use, the boy focused and schemed at the SAME time._ How typical. Snorlaxing around and taking it easy while I'm busy working... Always dropping her guard as soon as she thinks she's safe... What an idiot. _Silver knew he could take advantage of this situation—_somehow_. But his mind kept drawing blanks. Lyra was completely naked; no matter what, he kept noticing this fact. It was outright distracting.

_Yes, that's right. _He finally realized it;_ Nakedness is defenselessness! Her pokemon... If they're nearby, I can steal them. Even if she finds out, she's can't do anything about it. She's stuck in the water! It's the perfect plan._

Almost as if she could sense his intentions, Lyra lifted her head up, partially opened her eyes, and stared at the shower stalls in suspicion (of the powdered soap, probably). Moving her arms down—splashing—she began bringing her chest away from the boulder.

Ducking a bit behind the door, Silver held his breath and watched intently. _Finally,_ he thought. Whatever this 'finally' had to do with his plan remained unknown. Lyra was about to uncover herself and he remained rooted in spot. He forgot all about the plan.

Behind him—a noise clicked. A latch.

"Shi–" Silver snapped and sprung away from the door, back around the corner, and off to the far side. Flattening his back against the wall like a ninja, he slid away and surreptitiously peeked around the corner.

"What's with these clothes?" Ethan wondered aloud, peeking into the square basket he was about to deliver to Lyra; "Is there some kind of festival going on that I don't know about?..." Stopping at the wide-open bath door, he tilted his head in curiosity.

_Tch—I didn't have enough time to close it..._ Silver thought to himself, perturbed by this development.

"Huh?" Ethan said, finally becoming conscious about SOMETHING past that door; something Silver would undoubtedly want to kill him for.

"HEY," Lyra's embarrassed voice cried out, floundering amidst panicked splashing, "GET OUT."

Instead, Ethan dropped the basket and stood there, fighting to muzzle his gushing nosebleed with his hands all while forgetting how to move. Despite Lyra's command, he remained and gawked straight ahead—straight at her.

Silver could only guess that the boy was either too stupid to look away or had in fact seen Lyra's full-frontal view. _DAMN HIM!_ Silver shook in rage. _THIS IS UNFORGIVABLE!_

"That's enough! We're not children anymore, Ethan! The bath times of the past are over," Lyra roared, commanding a splash as loud as a tidal wave. "WAVE BREAKER... BUCKET!"

A salvo of liquid gushed, a deafening splatter sounded, and a wooden bucket hurtled past the doorway—right where it smacked Ethan in the face: "**GWACK!**"

"Oof–" Ethan sounded—falling backwards onto the walkway—spread eagle and fainted. A dull effect to a dramatic cause.

Soon after, the sound of Lyra pulling out of the water filled Silver's ears, and just for a moment, he could hear her feet thump on stone and see her arm reach outside the bath door. Grabbing the basket of clothes, she retreated and slammed the door shut—hurriedly fumbling to lock it in then process. "I thought I sealed this," she grumbled to herself. "That Ethan! Too awkward... This is all POWDERED SOAP's doing..."

_Serves him right... _Silver thought, laughing cruelly inside (and by him, he meant Ethan, since he had no idea who powdered soap was). This altercation today would definitely damage the two's friendship. Satisfied that he had caused such a disaster, Silver spun around and escaped.

* * *

Leaving it a bit loose, Grandma tied and fitted the orange obi around Lyra's waist, and standing back to observe her masterpiece, the woman nodded slowly. "It's perfect," she said, and all while holding back the tears of her youth.

Holding the draping yukata sleeves up in her fingers, Lyra examined the sea green fabric and observed its patterned vines, leaves, and white morning glories. Though she loved it's stylishness, she was thoroughly perplexed as to why Ethan's Grandma dressed her in it._ Is there some kind of event going on that I don't know about?_ she wondered. There had to be a good reason as to why Grandma didn't just put her in a plain robe.

"Since your clothing's still in the wash, I searched for something suitable for you and found THIS gem of a bygone era," Grandma said, clasping her hands together nostalgically. "I used to wear that when I was your age."

Lyra smiled pleasantly and nodded, but then slumped over depressingly—staring down at her feet. _So basically, this was all she had and she's risking it on my idiot self, _Lyra thought, the somber truth dawning upon her_. A valuable treasure of her glorious youth! And all because I left home without packing spare clothes or much of anything...  
_

"What's with that face? What's wrong? Is it too old-fashioned for you?" Grandma cried, nearly tearing out her remaining hair.

"No-no-no!" Lyra waved her hands, trying to calm her. "It's very beautiful! I was just worried about damaging it! I'm rough on such exquisite attire... that's why I stick to jean rompers. They endure me!"

"I was that way when I was your age, as well..." Grandma explained, walking all the way around Lyra and tugging at the beautiful yukata's wrinkles—not that it would MATTER come bed time (being Lyra actually had a point). A duplicitous grin spread across the folds of her ancient face. "Let's go show everyone now!" She charged and violently tugged Lyra along.

Stumbling into the sitting room, Lyra caught herself by leaning onto the wall. Grandpa, Quilava, and Marill gasped when they saw her.

"Bweh?" Ethan choked, jumping up from the table—his mouth gaping open when he saw her. For once, Lyra had a refined posture and a feminine, sparkling aura; her hair was tied up in a mature and trendy side-bun, and her skin was still refreshed and shiny from her hot bath.

Grandpa smiled wistfully, taken back in time and reminded of his youth with Grandma. _She's the very image of Grandma,_ he thought all nostalgic-like,_ from so long ago... _

Quilava's eyes filled with glistening tears, for his heart was touched by Lyra's ability to purify herself into such a form, and to decontaminate herself—even if for a moment—from her unladylike weirdness.

"Heheheh," Grandma chuckled to herself, tucking her mouth into her sleeve. "This will certainly make my grandson fall in love. After all—it worked on Grandpa half a hundred years ago...!"

Lyra faced Ethan and looked him in the eyes. Mesmerized, he stared back and lost himself in her luminous chocolate (cinnamon, hazel, or whatever shade of brown is popular) spheres of effulgent, subaqueous squishy orbs.

And then... Lyra's mouth twisted into a demented smirk. Lunging forward, she grabbed Ethan's head and slammed it—face down—onto the table. "Hey hey, kid," Lyra intoned—her voice adopting the inflection of a cutthroat gangster; "Earlier... that knock erased it, didn't it? Or. Do you need another? Speak up. Don't do it to yourself. I don't need any... witnesses. And. Don't you need all those fingers, kid?"

"N-no—I mean, y-yes!" Ethan screamed, flailing under her grip; "I definitely can't remember seeing you naked in the bath! Definitely can't!" Terrified by her demonic interrogation methods and how she possibly acquired them, he went still and sweated an entire rainforest.

"Good," Lyra said and let go. "Well... that solves that!" She bent back and let out a cheerful laugh.

Grandpa laid curled up in the corner—shaking from his own mental sufferings._ She really IS__ the past image of Grandma, _he thought, the images never leaving him, even after all these year_s. Of so long ago...  
_

Quilava winced but managed not to feel TOO emotionally betrayed; he figured it was all a momentary transformation anyway.

"Hohohoho!" Grandma cackled, somehow pleased by all this. "You two are so adorable together!"

* * *

Sneaking behind the daycare—curious about all the noise from within—Silver found a brightly-lit window and jumped up. Hanging from its beveled ledge, he peered in.

"—they're jean ROMPERS! A salopette by national standards, but not overalls—" Lyra rambled, lifting a leg up onto the low table and shaking a fist; "—There's a HUGE difference in the bib to back ratio... But even if they were overalls, what's so bad about THAT? They're edgy, tough, and difficult to wear!"

"Alright. Calm down. You're going to split open your yukata!" Ethan said, trying to calm her down and get her off the table; "Stop acting like an old man."

"I resent that!" Grandpa complained.

Silver looked Lyra over; despite her heated justification over her usual dumb attire, she was now wearing an up-do hairstyle and a feminine floral yukata with striking colors. For some reason, it made her look much more mature and less like a little girl.

_It's also very..._ Silver stopped before he could finish his thought. Dropping down into the dirt, he wrapped his head up in his arms and sulked. Such mawkish things nauseated him; love and beauty were weak and fleeting. Or at least, ordinarily they were. So why was it any different with _her_?

Sitting there for awhile, wondering if it would be wise to observe Lyra for the night—to make sure she didn't escape his watchful fury—Silver unwound his arms and scoffed. "Who cares," he declared. "She looks dumb no matter WHAT she's wearing."

This had nothing to do with his decision.

* * *

"Right! Thanks for having me," Lyra said, stepping out into the crisp morning air. Closing the daycare's front door behind her and Quilava, she found Ethan waiting by the road. "Ah, there you are," she said, tugging her bag across her shoulder. "I wanted to say goodbye."

"Ah... Well I wanted to give you this," Ethan said, taking out his pokegear.

"Huh? But that's yours. And I already have one. See?" She pulled out her pink pokegear—its white pom-pom charm dangling in the breeze.

"No, no, I meant my phone number!"_ Really, _he added in thought;_ sometimes she is so slow on the uptake..._

Once it made a loud beep, Lyra opened her pokegear and saw Ethan's phone number had been recorded. He had hers too, now, and this made her feel oddly uncomfortable... in that social kind of way.

"If you ever need any advice... or someone to talk to," Ethan began, patting the top of her fluffy white cap, "Just call me... Anytime."

Gazing into his face, Lyra's eyes widened in revelation. "So then... I can call you at four in the morning?" she asked.

"Um." He scratched his chin. "...Only if I can."_ Why? Is she actually going to do that now?!_

"Good good," she said, pulling away and running in place. "Hey—don't forget that bet," she reminded him, jabbing a finger upwards; "You have to visit my mom every day, or suffer a thousand needles in your eye!"

"HA?" He panicked. _I forgot all about that!_

"You'll just barely make it if you leave now... The clock is ticking, dood!"

"Are you chasing me off already? It's no problem—I can fly there! Besides, I had something else to give to you—" Before Ethan could finish, however, Lyra had already zipped off and down the road with Quilava. "Wait! Come back here!" He ran after her, but she had already left him behind.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

******Note: the entire scene in question and the answer below used to reside at the beginning of the next chapter (a long time ago)! It was pasted into this chapter for continuity flow. (Yes, I've started editing this story again, so if you've noticed differences here and there, you're not imaging things! Phew. Not going mad yet, I'm afraid.)  
**

**Q: "That begs the question then. Did Silver ever catch a glimpse of Lyra in her yukata wearing glory?" – Lil Enchantress**

**A: Silver is always watching Lyra. ALWAYS... (Well, most of the time...) **


	13. Endless Burning Justice

"HEY!" a man's far off voice shot over the shutter of wheels. "No double-riding!"

"Huh?" Lyra emitted and slowed her bicycle. Shifting her focus around past Quilava—who shared the seat and clung to her shoulders—they both scrutinized the oncoming officer and yelled all at once. "AHH! Hang tight lil' bro, it's the POPO," Lyra blurted at him, releasing the breaks and working the pedals like a jet turbine. "I can't do another nickel!"

"Stop! Pull over!" the police officer yelled, amping-up his own bike speed. "You're in violation of penal code five-thousand-nine-hundred, section two point eight! All pokemon are to remain in their pokeballs during bicycle transportation! Stop immediately!" He gained on her, their speed so sick (and over the animation budget) that the road became a star-burst of blue action lines.

"Nooo!" Lyra screamed bloody murder, knowing that they were GOING TO GET HER. Blistering forward and past the corner of the empty Goldenrod City train station, she dove into an alleyway, held her breath (supposedly it helped), and lost the policeman. Allowing herself to breath and pant uncontrollably at last, she dismounted the collapsible bike and slid Quilava off her back.

"The Goldenrod police are as fierce as I remember..." she said, folding up her bicycle and tucking it away into her bag.

"Quila!" Quilava scolded, swirling his snout in circles while telling her off (despite being partly to blame). "Que-la va va!"

"I know, I know! It was wrong of me to bail," Lyra admitted. "But I have a justified fear of the police! And you should, too, when the law abandons you."

Quilava listened to her but then froze, his eyes curiously scouring a nearby sign.

"What is it?" Lyra asked, also noticing the sign on a nearby building overhead. She read it aloud: "GOLDENROD TUNNEL—UNDERGROUND PATH—Get Off Your Bike in the Tunnel." She slipped her fingers under her jean straps and hissed. "Man... And after that nice bike shop owner let us keep the thing, too... I wanna ride on into the department store, you know? You and I, biking in through the door."

Quilava snorted in agreement—negligent of his own maturity this time—but then pointed at the smaller sign on the building's door. It read: TRAINERS WELCOME! SHOPPING AND BATTLING AHEAD.

"Ah!" Lyra spat in surprise, interested in the offer. "Two challenging things all balled into one, how intriguing." Pushing the heavy door open and marching inside, it only took them a few steps before they were stopped by a familiar voice.

"Lyra!" Ethan called out, gasping for breath.

"Oh, Ethan," Lyra greeted. "How speedy! You visited my mom already, is that it?" She wasn't going to let him forget.

"N-no, I've been busy chasing you all afternoon!" he said with slight hesitance. "Last time I saw you—you were playing on the department store elevator. What were you doing? The poor bellhop girl looked so scared!"

"Oh yeah, huh?" Lyra crossed her arms and smirked impishly. "I'm just doing what you have to do while you're still young... I was eagerly making new memories."

"So that's what you call it?" Ethan sweated.

"Anyways—what brings you here?"

"This." Rustling through his bag, Ethan pulled out a pink plastic jewelry box shaped like a heart. "I wanted to give you this," he managed to say, still short on his breath. "It's a pokemon fashion case. It's perfect and COMMODIOUS enough for any shopping trip."

"Ahh..." She took it in hand, tracing the lid's colorful designs with her fingers before exclaiming, "It's formidably adorable!"

Ethan grinned, satisfied by her response. "I'm glad you like it. Have fun with it downstairs, ok?" He watched her nod and wave goodbye—and as she left—he crossed his arms together and called out: "Psychic heart distortion!" Then he skipped away, as if he had just engaged in completely normal behavior.

* * *

"We just opened," the down stair's photobooth man explained. "So we haven't received our specialty cosplay outfits yet. However, I did find this Team Rocket uniform lying around, so..." He held it by the sleeve and examined it severely—almost as if he were contemplating whether to wipe his sweaty face on it or not.

"Ah. Well... That'll work," Lyra said, not caring as long as they got their picture taken. "What do you think, Quilava?"

Quilava stretched his neck in PURE indifference. Then the posing for the shoot began. Summoned together for this rare occasion, Aerodactyl, Quilava, Weepinbell, and Furret stood by Lyra and trampled over one another in their attempts to look natural.

"Do a cute pose!" the photographer suggested.

Puzzled, Lyra held two thumbs up and her pokemon bugged their eyes out in surprise, thus proving how un-photogenic they all were.

**"Snap!"** the camera flashed and sounded.

"How was that?" Lyra asked, proud of their teamwork.

"Er, it works..." the photographer said, bringing up and adjusting the awkward photo on his handheld PC.

Throwing off the uniform, Lyra bent down to her pokemon. "Hey, do you have any Team Rocket uniforms for these guys?" She lightly tugged at Furret's fluffy tail, earning an embarrassed glance from her.

"Uh, as I explained already, I have a back-ordered shipment I'm waiting on, so sorry. But we DO have a gallery for pokemon dress-up. You can even buy small accessories there." The photobooth man kindly guided Lyra to the adjacent room—where he left her to investigate the capsule machine in the corner and make unwise buying decisions.

When she swiped her trainer card through the machine's reader, a large, egg-shaped gumball capsule popped out from its slot. Splitting it open, Lyra beheld its prize in confusion. "A white beard?!" she said, experimentally trying it on before allowing Quilava to don it (since she actually made it appear quite fun to him). Hooked by their investment, Quilava begged her for more goodies and she swiped her card a few more times.

"Oh-hoh," a Super Nerd clamored, stepping up behind Lyra and forming a line. "Did you guys hear about those limited edition Legendary Golem figures that were just released?"

"Indubitably! I already got all three," the Pokemaniac behind him bragged. "I had to drain the capsule machine at the department store, though. I went through half my con savings. Needless to say, no more trench coats or cosplays for now!"

"That's nothing," a second Super Nerd proclaimed. "I got all three PLUS the uber rare gold and silver color variations... AND the secret fourth figure, Regigias."

A young but stout Pokefan laughed at this. "Is that so?" he said. "Well I got all that, PLUS I painted and detailed half my blank and clear lots."

"What? REALLY?"

"Prodigious! And your model-painting skills are superb too... how did you manage to finish so many and in such a short amount of time?"

"That's really something. Full points to your fandom cred! I want to see them. I might even want to trade you some of my treasured Porygon Z doushinji."

_Nerds!_ Lyra laughed at them inwardly (which was quite hypocritical, all things considered). When she swiped her card again, another capsule popped out and she eagerly pried it open. This time, however, she discovered but a piece of brown fluff. "Nads! This thing keeps giving me crap," she yelled, which incited Quilava to sniff at the brown fluff in confirmation. "Ok, that's enough junk for today." Giving up, Lyra pulled out her fashion case and began to stuff it all in.

Unbelievably, the Super Nerd behind her gasped and lunged at her. "Wait!" he cried, latching onto her case and stopping her from putting it away.

"W-what?" Lyra stammered, alarmed by his sudden attack.

"Is that..." The Super Nerd sweated, pushing up his glasses. "It IS! It's—it's—" he stuttered neurotically and swallowed, "A limited edition Pretty Pokémaid Sohko June heart amulet make-up transformation fashion CASE."

Lyra's face went blue in horror.

"Only fifty of these were released last month at the Goldenrod department store! I waited in line for hours but never got one, how did some mainstream girl like you, who's the target demographic and only ever buys the common cheap mass-produced goods, manage to obtain it?!" The nerd began to weep.

"Some wa..." Lyra began, still shaking away disbelief at these accusations. "Some one gave it to me!"

"I need this!" he cried, gripping the fashion case and tugging it frantically. "I'll give you ten-thousand pokedollars for it!"

"No way, your bribes will not move me!" She wriggled it away from him, squeezed the case close to her chest, and growled like an animal guarding a chunk of meat.

"Yes, that offer IS a bit cheap," the Pokefan said, butting in and taking out his wallet. "So I'll give you DOUBLE that for it."

Enraged, the first Super Nerd shouted: "That's nothing... I'll give you triple!"

"Quadruple!" the Pokemaniac offered, joining in on the bidding (and all despite his dwindling con savings).

"You, you!" The first Super Nerd flailed his arms at him. "You've only watched the first two seasons of PrePoMaid SJ, so you're not even a TRUE fan... Grr, I'll DOUBLE his quadruple—"

"—That's enough!" Lyra shouted, resolutely placing the case over her heart. "You can't just put a price on this... This is a treasured gift from my important childhood friend!"

The four geeks were effectively silenced by her declaration. "A childhood friend..." they all murmured. "A boy?"

"If that's so, then we don't stand a chance!" the second Super Nerd said.

"Nuh-uh! Not if we're a tsundere-type with contrasting hair color!" the Pokemaniac exclaimed, earning disapproving stares. "Not that we are..."

"Then... the odds aren't in our favor," the first Super Nerd stammered, eying his friends and nodding. As if they all understood—they pulled out their pokeballs and prepared for a holy battle.

"So! We'll just have to battle it free from your cold, lifeless hands!" they yelled in unison—moving into position and striking flamboyant sentai team poses; "Poké Riders—GO."

"NOW YOU'VE DONE IT," Lyra roared, holding up her fists. "You've angered the Flame Warrior of Justice and Victory! Prepare yourselves—"

"—WRRRRY—" they called in unison.

They clashed with blistering force. From outside the Goldenrod tunnel exits, smoke exploded from the doorways and mushroomed into the streets, where it stirred up, blew around, and swirled into the afternoon sky.

Crawling up from the far tunnel's exit, Lyra and Quilava gagged and coughed in exhaustion, though for Lyra, it was more so exasperation. "Nerds... ruin... everything!" she choked, pulling off her hat and beating away the dust before plopping it back on. Regardless of her efforts, the rest of her outfit remained covered in black soot.

Strengthened by the battle, Quilava glowed in several short bursts.

"Hm..." Lyra muttered and observed him, knowing what this meant. "I was holding back before, but I think we're ready now... for the Goldenrod Gym!" she yelled this announcement right in the middle of the street, frightening a businessman who scurried away. Just then, however, her phone rang. "Hello?" she answered.

Quilava strained his ears to hear the chattering of Lyra's mother on the other end.

"Mom... Stop buying me berries," Lyra said into the mouthpiece, "and buy yourself some meat... Yes. Volcano bake meat." They walked on.

* * *

"Are you lost?" a Beauty asked, mocking her gym's newest challenger with vague concern.

"No, I'm NOT," Lyra lied, her expression flat with agitation. In reality, the gym's maze set-up had her absolutely flummoxed.

"Ohohoho, but I can tell that you are! Isn't this place ingenious?" The Beauty laughed into her hand. "Whitney had the gym spruced up after some hoity-toity girl in a skullcap had the nerve to call it boring!"

"Hoity-toity girl in a skullcap?" Lyra repeated. _That sounds like Crystal! _she thought;_ I mean, I can't think of any other hoity-toity girl who would wear a skullcap... _"Sounds like something she'd say, too," Lyra said as she hung down from the wall below Quilava at top. How he'd gotten up there so fast was mystifying; how she'd gotten up there so fast was one of the greatest mysteries of all. (Actually, it involved a bike.)

"HEY—get down from there," the Beauty screeched. "You can't just CLIMB the walls, cheater! You can't just WALK wherever you want, ride bicycles indoors, or teleport randomly off-screen!"

"I move the stars for NO ONE," Lyra decreed.

Confident that this was NOT the case, the Beauty jumped, grabbed Lyra's legs, and hung onto her in an effort to pull her back. "Get... down!" the Beauty commanded through clenched teeth.

"NO YOU!" Lyra shook, pulling herself up—along with the Beauty—with all of her strength. When Lyra mounted the top, however, she lost her grip and the both of them were sent tumbling over to the other side.

"Kyaaa!" the Beauty screamed upon landing, only for her to whip out a compact mirror to check her eye make-up (since it felt like a great weight had been lifted). "This is... Ack! My eyelashes! My eyelashes!" She whimpered and groped at the ground for her prosthetics. "I can't find my eyelashes!"

Lyra remained very still, being she was supporting the full weight of the young woman on top of her. "Ugh..." she groaned. It didn't help that the Beauty was a lugging a body-bag-sized designer purse—let alone a kilogram of fake eyelashes.

"Ooh? Samantha, what's going on?" a girl in a plain baseball jersey questioned, startled by their sudden appearance. She was a wide-eyed, pink-haired girl with a mouth which never closed.

Leaping to her feet, the Beauty pointed at Lyra and immediately filed a complaint against her: "Leader Whitney! This girl was caught cheating... by means of climbing over THIS wall!"

"If there's a wall, one should climb it!" Lyra proclaimed, standing up as well. "Besides, I'm here now... so let's just battle already!"

"Right right," Leader Whitney chirped, waving a hand in dismissal. "I made a SLIGHT interior design mistake so stairs DO need to be added... later. No one's been able to reach me since the renovation, so I've been boooored!" she whined, pulling out a pokeball. "Anyways, introductions, 'kay?... Hiii! I'm Whitney. Everyone was into pokemon, so I got into it too! Pokemon are super-cute!" She kicked up her feet and flapped her elbows. "Did you want to battle?"

"Uhhhh, yes." Lyra nodded. _Er... didn't I?... _Suddenly she couldn't remember. Whitney's hyperactivity was somehow distorting space and reason.

"I've gotta warn you though," Whitney expressed, jumping up and down ecstatically, and flashing a peace-sign. "I'm good!" And quite self-absorbed, because though she mentioned introductions, she left no space for Lyra to make hers. "Clefairy, I choose you!" Whitney threw out her first pokeball.

"Quilava, Let's go!" Lyra called, her fire starter leaping down from the wall and revving up his voluminous flames.

"Doubleslap!" Whitney said.

"Shall we try out our new killer special technique?" Lyra asked. Quilava nodded eagerly at her and she grinned back. The technique was a new move they'd bought at the Goldenrod Department Store only hours before. "Let's go!" Lyra said, calling out their attack on the spot; "Endless Flames of Burning Justice... Attaaaack!" Quilava ran in close, yowling ferociously as he spun around and launched a gust of flames at the enemy Clefairy.

"Kyaaa!" Whitney screamed, watching Clefairy cry and wobble about in her scorched and dazed state. _I've never heard of THAT move before! _Whitney thought, already starting to sweat;_ But it actually looked like a Fire Blast... Wait, it WAS a Fire Blast! Oh no, is that girl going to use only special moves? I can't possibly take advantage of Clefairy's Cute Charm like this! _Shaking it off, Clefairy gained composure and followed up on her trainer's commands. Rushing at Quilava, she determinedly double slapped him—left and right—right across the face.

"She's girly smacking you!" Lyra cried. "Pull out, one more Fire Blast—I mean—Burning Justice Attack!" Quilava broke free and gained distance, back flipping through the air and launching another burst of spreading flames at his opponent.

"Ha! You think you can hit us with _that _when you're so far away?" Whitney shouted. Just to prove her trainer's point, Clefairy side-stepped the Fire Blast and smiled victoriously.

"Urgh... the issue of accuracy really did pop up," Lyra growled, tearing at her hat.

"Let's use Metronome!" Whitney commanded. Her Clefairy raised a scolding finger and wagged it—causing a glowing storm of leaves to raise up and slice into Quilava.

"Magical Leaf! Eh? Ha! It's not very effective," Lyra said, coaching Quilava from behind; "OK. Try burning her up point blank!" Quilava danced in close and fired. The enemy Clefairy tried to escape, but the spreading plumes of flames were too much to dodge. Overcome by them, the enemy Clefairy wailed and fainted.

"Ergh... You did your best Clefairy," Whitney grumbled, pulling out her next pokeball "Go, Milktank!"

The plump creature popped out from her tiny ball and reared her head. "Moo," she hemmed anti-climatically. Now came the true battle.

_~To Be Continued...~_


	14. Battle at the Radio Tower

"MOO," Milktank droned on. With each cry, her udders shook and sloshed from the milk contained within.

"That's where Moomoomilk—" Lyra realized aloud, unable to pull her distressed eyes away; "—That's where Moomoomilk comes FROM?" What unsettling news this was.

"Milktank! Attract that male pokemon with your seductive juju!" Whitney implored.

"Eurgh..." Lyra cringed and warbled; "Do NOT want." But it was too late—Quilava had already fallen to Milktank's UTTER seduction. Gazing lovingly at her, his focus blurred and his motivation depleted.

"Uwahahaha!" Whitney laughed maddeningly. "Your Quilava is putty in our hands now... Milktank, Rollout!"

"Quilava, attack!" Lyra shouted; "Strike her with a Flame Wheel—like a boss!" Despite these commands, Quilava lingered dumbstruck with infatuation. When the blubbery Milktank spun back around, she smacked into Quilava and sent him propelling through the air. "Oh, this is bad!" Lyra cried, covering her eyes.

"Keep on rolling, Milktank!" Whitney shouted and grinned, haughtily pointing at the battle field. Nearby, hanging over the wall, Whitney's fellow gym trainers—various Lasses and Beauties—cheered and screamed. Kicking their legs and thrashing about, they rallied for Milktank and their leader's victory. Responding to their energy, Milktank tore up the pink-tiled floor and spun back around for another full-powered swipe.

"You're too good for her, Quilava, she doesn't DESERVE you," Lyra insisted, angrily puffing out her cheeks._ He doesn't have much longer like_ _this!_ she realized;_ Milktank's Rollout attack doubles in power with each turn, and it doesn't help that it's super-effective... With his condition, Quilava will take an estimated four turns to whittle down Milktank with __Flame Wheel_, and at this rate, we'll barely make ONE. 

Full of doubt, Lyra grabbed her bag and considered switching Quilava with Aerodactyl._ No, not now... Quilava's infatuated, but there's still that fifty-fifty chance of him listening to me. Then there's a eighty-five percent chance of contact with... _"—Hm, it's still worth it!" Lyra determined aloud, pulling out a Fresh Water, uncapping it, and running to administer it to Quilava. He thirstily gulped from the bottle. "After this, it's Fire Blast!" she told him.

"Wha... Are you crazy?" Whitney asked, wincing back laughter. "Unreliable as it is—you still want to use such an attack while your pokemon is INFATUATED?"

"It's not a big deal, I'm only stacking the odds," Lyra replied stubbornly.

Quilava, sick on his conflicted love and unable to concentrate once again, allowed Milktank to roll in for a second hit—sending him flying into a wall. Aching all over, he panted, weakly lifting himself up on all fours.

"Ok, thank you!" Whitney teased. "How generous of you to let us win!"

"Come on!" Lyra erupted, raising her voice to break through; "Get up and Fire Blast!" Quilava perked his ears, finally realizing her command. Charging the oncoming Milktank, he lobbed forwards on one foot and piroutted into the air with flames blasting from his back. Raining down on Milktank's path—and sizzling at the air—his raging inferno detonated the nearby tree planters and caused a swamp of smoke to flood for the ceiling.

"Impossible!" Whitney shrieked.

"Critical hit," Lyra said; "It's burger time!"

Smoldering, Milktank collapsed on her side with a thump. Her eyes swam around in her head and she mooed weakly before finally fainting. "Ugh..." Whitney mooed as well, falling to her knees. At this defeat, all her cheeky energy has been drained away and replaced with quick depression.

Feeling their leader's loss, the gym trainers murmured and chattered, keeping their voices low so she couldn't overhear their opinions.

"Here it comes," Beauty Samantha said matter-of-factly.

As foretold, Whitney pulled her tightened fists up to her eyes, sucked in air, and let out a hysterical wail. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAH—" she bawled, falling on her stomach and pounding the floor. "—Waaaaah! You shouldn't be so serious, you meanie! Waaaa—" Deliriously gasping for breath, tears streamed down her face as she wriggled and continued behaving much like a Magikarp thrust into battle before level 15, "You... you child, you!"

Lyra stood aghast—her mouth wide open at having witnessed this unprofessional scene; in this opportune moment, Whitney threw a shoe at her dumbfounded head_. _

_"_**PLONK!**_"_ Lyra stoically took the jarring hit, which was surprising considering how she was smacked sole-first and all.

"Err... How about you come back later?" Beauty Samantha suggested cautiously, dragging the stunned girl away. "This will take awhile."

"Huh? Will I get my badge?!" Lyra fretted.

"Don't worry, Whitney always does this... Give her some time," Samantha exhaled, resting her hands on her hips. "How about you check out the Radio Tower in the meantime? I hear they're giving out free radio cards to smart trainers."

Taking Samantha's advice, Lyra slunk off to go heal Quilava at the pokecenter. As she waited in the lobby for Quilava's treatment, though, her luck changed and a strange sound rattled in her bag. "Huh?" Lyra let out, opening it up to see what was going on. _Oh... The egg!_ she thought with anticipation. It twitched a bit more before finally quieting. "It's making noises inside... It's probably going to hatch soon," she observed aloud.

"Here you go, have a good day," the distracted pokecenter nurse said, setting Quilava up on the counter as she turned to deal with another trainer. She wasn't as attentive as the other nurses, so this alienated Lyra a little. But then again, Lyra decided it was good that all nurses had unique dispositions.

Turning their attention back to the egg, Lyra and Quilava wandered outside. "I think it's going to hatch soon," Lyra said to him, shaking the egg as if such abuse aided it; "I'm getting all excited just thinking about it, Quilava—I—" Her eyes widened to a deranged degree, "—What should we NAME it?"

Quilava gulped. He knew his trainer wasn't very good at nicknames, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by breaking the bad news to her. He let out a noncommittal grunt, which served well in provoking her to announce each and every one of her dumb ideas aloud. Soon enough, they made it to the Radio Tower, and pushing through the glass door, they walked in. In this instance, Lyra froze—stunned—as if another shoe had been thrown at her slow head. "Ahh!" she yelled, pointing at the back of a teenage girl; "Skullcap!"

"Excuse me?" the accused girl said, turning around. As soon as she saw Lyra, however, the girl dismissed her initial surprise and pulled her lips taut. "Ah. Lyra," she said in flat recognition. "Excellent greeting, by the way. Especially after all these years."

"Crystal! Did you just beat the gym here, too?" Lyra demanded.

"Chill out puffy head, I defeated them weeks ago," Crystal said, closing her eyes with a hand flick. "I'm just here for my interview."

"Interview?"

"Yes. And you must be here for the promotion." Crystal snapped her fingers at the nervous receptionist. "Hey, you there. Get her a radio card test. Hurry up, I want her out of my hair."

"Y-yes Miss!" the receptionist stammered, thumbing through a drawer.

"You're trying to chase me away?" Lyra questioned, her sad eyes glistening and enlarging to an absurd size; "Don't you wanna catch up on—"

"—On all the things you could've MAYBE bothered writing to me about in these years past? No." Crystal blurted, throwing her head back and frowning. "Say, is Ethan's still following you around all the time? You know, with the kind of loyalty best reserved for a Growlithe."

"Ethan?" Lyra asked, furrowing her eyebrows; "Growlithe?"

"Dense as always. Of course, I guess that's what he likes about you," Crystal admitted.

"Crystal..." Lyra said, unable to address the girl's complaints._ We used to be such good friends, _she thought; _but this is the result of our opposite paths. _For once, Lyra wanted to innocently wonder what had happened—to feel true confusion at such a tragedy—but she already knew the answer. They had grown apart, separated by their parentage and upbringing. Crystal was high-class. Lyra was riffraff. Somewhere in between was Ethan. As children, there was nothing they could do to bridge the gap; Crystal's parents made sure of that. Now that Crystal was out on her own, however, Lyra was hoping they could reconnect—much like how she'd done with Ethan.

"Ethan and I, we haven't really spoken since the good old days," Lyra said suddenly. "We fell apart... because it just wasn't the same without you there. You were the glue, so to speak."

Crystal gazed at Lyra, her icy mien instantly melting. "I... I see..." she stammered.

"Oh yeah. He was in town earlier. We hung out for the first time in ages. Did you get to see him?"

"He was? Where? Is he still here?" Crystal earnestly wanted to know.

"The Daycare owners are his grandparents. You should stop by and see them."

"Grandparents?" Crystal echoed; "Hm... Despite things, you two really are close knit... It's childish to admit, but it always made me jealous."

"Hah?"

"It's her!" a man exclaimed. "The researcher from the Ruins of Alph! The girl-genius archeologist."

Lyra looked their way, surprised. _What are they talking about?_ she wondered.

"Didn't you hear?" the man continued; "She's now leading the official Ruins of Alph research team. She decoded those stone tablets in a matter of days and collected a sample of each Unknown for her research team."

"Yeah, and her work is astonishing," the man's colleague exclaimed. "Did you read her study on time-insulated mutagenic evolution?"

"Yes, and she's only a teenager!"

_Are they... talking about Crystal?_ Lyra pondered, watching as the two men carried their conversation upstairs.

"I heard she worked with Professor Elm as a young child."

"Ho... really?"

Squinting her eyes at her childhood friend, Lyra beheld Crystal with a proud, albeit demented expression.

"Huh? What's with that face?" Crystal demanded, uneasily slinking away.

"You're..." Lyra squealed, latching onto Crystal; "You're sooo cooool!" She huffed and pawed at her back. "Be my friend by my friend be my friend."

"Ack! Get off me, puffy head!"

"At least give me an autograph—Crystal—why are you being like this?" Lyra obnoxiously sobbed.

"Because... Because..." Crystal spat, pulling away and pointing at the girl. "You're my biggest obstacle when it comes to Ethan. You get it? You're my love rival!"

"Ehhh?" Lyra fell back.

"Ha..." Crystal looked away, pulling out a pokeball. "I want a battle with you. I want to show you how much more capable of a trainer I am."

"I see," Lyra replied, pouncing at this rare opportunity. "Then I eagerly oblige. I want to see how tough you are, girl-genius!"

"You won't be so eager by the time I'm through with you. You're out of your league... Meganium, I choose you!" Crystal called, throwing her grass-type starter into battle. Meganium roared and threw back his long, leafy green neck.

"Whoa!" Lyra cried, noticing how high-leveled and healthy he was. _He's fully evolved and way ahead of Quilava, _she thought._ But we have an advantage! _"Quilava, this is a miracle battle, a taste of the incredible future! Stand up to its shining promise! Fire Blast and—"

"—Earthquake!" Crystal raised a fist and roared.

Lyra gasped. The floor beneath them began to shake and rumble, and overhead, the pendant lights flickered and swung to and fro. When the room went dark, Lyra was once again wrecked with lost fears and the cold compounding memory of Goldenrod.

_Quilava... I can't hear you!_ Lyra thought as she stood in fear—the darkness encroaching on all sides. "Quilava?" she said, the skin on her arms prickling and her legs going numb. Any moment, it felt as if the walls would cave in on her and pin her down. In the darkness, she lost place of where she was and an eon passed in a flash.

"**Whoooom**–" with a groan, the power kicked back on and the lights returned.

The receptionist, stunned by this, glanced down at her rebooting computer.

Quilava laid out on the floor, fainted. Lyra, after fighting her legs' flan-like movement, staggered to his side. "Quilava..." she said, her voice small and unsure.

"Never tasted defeat before? Take this as an expensive lesson," Crystal said. "Are you going to just stand there and accept your loss? Or are you going to keep going?"

Lyra apprehensively gazed at her foe before withdrawing Quilava's defeated form. Anxiously, her hand hovered over the pokeballs on her belt._ Furret doesn't stand a chance, _she thought, numb in disbelief._ Weepinbell would be a good annoyer for a few turns, but then he'd get picked off. One choice then... _"Aerodactyl, I choose you!" Lyra said; "We need you now!"

"I see. You've realized that Earthquake can't touch a flying type." Crystal took notice. "But his typing is nothing special in this case. As you'll soon find out, we'll overpower you quickly!"

"Aerodactyl, rock on and show her your Wing Attack!" Lyra exclaimed.

"Solarbeam!" Crystal said, raising a palm to the ceiling.

Though Aerodactyl lashed at his foe with rock resolve, Meganium shrugged off the attack, shuddered his leaves, and began absorbing light—which spooked Aerodactyl with the all-too-familiar glittering effects.

"Wing Attack? Decent typing but it lacks the power needed," Crystal said. "At such a low level, your pokemon's movepool is still limited."

_She's right..._ Lyra thought, forcing herself to focus to keep from falling into a hopeless daze;_ It didn't even get Meganium's health down halfway... We need to hinder Meganium's attack rate if we wish to win. _"Take aim! Supersonic!" Lyra said, too self-conscious now to spit out any new heroic speeches or attacks. At this, Aerodactyl trilled deafeningly and the high-frequency wave hit, sending Meganium into a frenzy.

In his confusion, Meganium lost his solar charge and fell down.

"Wing attack again!" Lyra said. _It's working, _she thought, with a foothold of hope welling inside;_ just like in that battle with Elder Li..._

"Meganium, use Leech Seed!" Crystal said. Seeded vines shot over Aerodactyl's back, dragging him down and slowly stealing his health. Stumbling, he shot his wings back out and slashed at the confused Meganium, and for several turns their exchange raged on—until at last—Meganium fainted.

"Unbelievable! You managed to wriggle your way out of that one," Crystal said with a small smile, taking out her next pokeball. "This is it. I won't be holding back anymore. Prepare yourselves!" She threw the pokeball down. "Go! Suicune!"

With an out-of-place and ethereal glow—like light's reflection off mist-covered water—a mystifying creature materialized in the lobby with a flowing purple mane and two white, streaming tails. "Suuuuuu..." it grumbled lowly, emitting a godly-strong battle aura.

"Suicune?" Lyra repeated, certain she'd never seen this kind of pokemon before. "What the?!"_ It looks so powerful, _she thought, stepping back in disbelief._ What kind of pokemon IS it?_

"Have you ever heard about the Burnt Tower in Ecruteak?" Crystal asked suddenly. "They say it was home to a legendary roosting pokemon... though it turned out to be a nest for several. I set them all free, but Suicune decided to come with me. Suicune. The spirit of water's purity... and the embodiment of the northern winds!"

"A legendary?!" Lyra spat, unable to take her eyes off the shinning being. "No, a god!" It was too late, and now any hope was unfounded. _Crystal is... unstoppable. _"Grr, Aerodactyl, return!" Lyra called, trying to defy fate. "Go, Weepinbell!"

"Icebeam!" Crystal said, thrusting Suicune upon them. A deafening shriek of ice extended forward—encapsulating Weepinbell and shattering away as Suicune roared on an unhearable frequency. Weepinbell fell.

"Seemed like a water-type... of course it'd have an ice attack," Lyra muttered to herself, struggling to remember how to fight again. _Maybe I should've had Aerodactyl take one for the team—but I don't like them fainting... But I don't think I can stop that now!_ Never before had Lyra sweated so much during a battle; all her limbs were trembling and an omniscient sense of dread weighed on her head, its voice whispering the unacceptable truth to her. Brushing her frazzled brown bangs away, she recalled Weepinbell and once again called out Aerodactyl.

_Crystal, she's levels ahead of me... And she has a legendary..._

_But..._

_We're not going down yet! Even if I have to use up everything in my bag._

"Latch on with Thunder Fang!" Lyra yelled. Aerodactyl snapped his jaws first to warm them up before charging in. Grappling with Suicune, Aerodactyl went down when it, the two of them wrestling and screeching in their violent tumble. Electricity exuded from Aerodactyl's jaws, hooking into the neck of the legendary beast and paralyzing it.

"Not bad... You've got the skill and luck that most trainers lack," Crystal said, preying on Lyra's fears. "But you already know what's next... I can tell." She swallowed Lyra up with her words: "You know that you're going to lose!"

Lyra chocked, shaken by this actuality.

"Suicune, it's time," Crystal said, crossing her arms with a knowing smile; "Flood everything with—"

_"—_**Ding-dong!_"_** an electronic chime went off, interrupting her mid-speech.

"Miss Maple?" the receptionist asked. "I hate to interrupt your battle, but it's time for your interview." Despite the receptionist's polite words, her fearful voice explained a worry: What else was this girl going to do to the lobby? Broken pieces of light fixtures and ice shards littered the cracked floor, and sink holes gaped from the walls.

"Right. This battle is over anyway," Crystal said and walked away, with Suicune faithfully following behind her. Solemnly, the two of them disappeared up the stairs. Though, maybe, it wasn't so solemn for them. For Lyra, though...

"...You really carried us in battle. You did good," Lyra praised Aerodactyl, gently knocking heads with him. Calling him back into his ball, she fell to her weakened knees and sighed deeply. In this moment of calm, she finally noticed her pounding heart and iced lungs.

"Are you ok?" the worried receptionist asked.

Lyra had only a level 16 Furret and a half-beaten Aerodactyl left. Quilava was knocked unconscious. Weepinbell had fainted.

"No... I—" Lyra said, her eyes glassy and dull, "—I lost."

_~To Be Continued...~_


	15. Love Hatches

Channel surfing with her newly won radio card, Lyra held her pokegear close and listened intently._ No sign of it,_ she thought;_ I guess Crystal's interview isn't on yet. Does that mean it's not live? I heard Professor Oak's shows aren't live, either. _Switching the radio off, she met Quilava's eyes and the two of them began plodding back down the road for the gym. When they made it back inside the smokey and fashionably-pink labyrinth, they sensed movement and spotted Whitney sniveling in the corner.

Upon hearing their footsteps, however, Whitney perked-up and spontaneously re-energized. "You came back for your badge!" she cried out—grinning as if they were old friends. "Good thing! I thought you forgot."

"Hm hm, I'm not the one who forgot," Lyra said and folded her arms._ And what a gym leader, _she added in thought;_ no apologizing for throwing her SHOE at me?_

"Heehee, I guess you're right." Whitney giggled. "We-elp, here it is! The 'ol Plain Badge." She carelessly stuck Lyra's hand with its pin.

"Ow!" Lyra yelped, pulling back her throbbing palm and examining the blood which beaded from her wound. _Well! This suits me at the moment, _she thought, wondering if Whitney heard about the radio tower kerfuffle. It would definitely explain the girl's renewed cheerfulness._  
_

"Oops! Sorry 'bout that!" Whitney laughed, sticking out her tongue and lightly bopping her own head. "I forgot to make sure the pin was latched."

Lyra turned to Quilava. "I'd say, chances are it's a clean needle..." Quilava nodded his head in agreement.

"Oh, you can have this, too," Whitney said, ignoring the two and taking out a CD-like device—a TM. "It's Attract. It's perfect for a cutie like me, right?" She folded her fingers under her chin and posed. "Right?" She batted her eyes.

Though Quilava and Lyra were too casual to pass judgement on a young girl fishing for compliments—at least aloud—their eyes and mouths betrayed them (and the laws of nature) by becoming mere flat lines.

"Wha," Whitney said, balking at this response. "Why are you making that kinda face?!"

Wriggling away from Whitney's outburst (and her gym) Lyra and Quilava explored the town's backstreets and, when they finally felt safe, went shopping at the department store to prepare for their continuing journey. Subsequently, they were booted-out when Lyra disguised herself with the white beard accessory and tried to buy booze.

Resting midday on the northern hill high above Goldenrod, Quilava and Lyra stood outside the first gatehouse and observed the seaside city below. Waiting idly, with Lyra's newly-won radio blaring between them, they absorbed it's mindless noise and allowed their energy to drain under the harsh shadows of the surrounding sunlight.

A chill wind crept from the east and Lyra tugged her hat down snug to fend it off. _I tried, _she thought, swept deep into the coffers of her own mind_, but...__ I still can't change this city's impression_. No matter where she ran in this place, and how much she acted out, her feelings couldn't change. The tunnel, the photo booth, the gym, the memories made today, though strong, couldn't rewrite the old ones. The blackout in the radio tower earlier—the groaning of the lights—only recalled and reaffirmed that impression. Her failure in battle was only an extra appendage.

_Facing a fear should make it fade, _Lyra thought. _It should. And it would... at least I believe so._

Lyra's eyes peered faraway into the distance and followed the patched pavement underneath the Magnet Train's bridge. For her, all those patches—the asphalt rectangles which stood out darker than the rest—were an engraving of that day three years ago. The stretch of trashed rails which once ran along there had since been re-built to run through an overhead bridge—to prevent anything from happening again—but the patchy remedial after job remained, along with her ingrained dread.

"How y'al doin' now?" the announcer greeted over the radio, oblivious to his listeners' uneasiness. "Whether you're up or way down low, don't you miss the Lucky Number Show! And now here's our caller favorite: the Lucky Number song—"

Feeling something rub against her leg, Lyra flinched and searched for the cause. Quilava gazed up at her pressingly. "Quila va," he said, prodding to know what was on her mind.

"It's not something to worry about," Lyra answered, ignoring the upbeat radio tune between them; "It's just something that happened here in the past. You can be angry at me for this, but I won't speak about it. I made up my mind to forget, as selfish as that sounds."

Quilava could only continue searching Lyra's unfocused eyes for a meaning. Whatever that _something_ was, she must've had a good reason to reject it. "Quilava qui," he said, mentioning if it could possibly concern her father's passing.

"I can't hide much from you, but that's good." She held her fists on her hips. "This city makes me into a coward, if you've noticed, because I'm still trembling from BEFORE we got here. But I wanted to let you know... that even though we were goofing around today, I made new, better memories of this place." A lopsided grin alighted on her face. "And I can say it was all because of you and our comrades. I wanted to express my thanks for that."

"Laaa..." Quilava slowly nodded, dropping the subject she'd forcibly dodged. Even if his trainer was still troubled, he was glad that he had helped her move on in some way. And somehow, he felt as if this confession of hers had made them closer.

Humans. To Quilava, their attitudes were often strange and suspicious. But when it came to Lyra, he felt as if those characteristics were justified. Even when she tried to act assertive and strong, her bravado still seemed pitiful. Inside she was soft. It made him want to protect her—even if it ended up making her weaker. Even if she absolutely refused all that.

Without another word, Lyra led Quilava away through the northern gate house and onto Route 35. From there on, Lyra had him plow through the route trainers. Quilava would've never thought it possible, but Lyra had been battling even more vigorously than usual. Along with this sudden, serious attitude of hers—she had begun a new, strange habit of checking his health every few seconds. Quilava already knew it was because of that battle with Crystal. It was his first loss. Her first loss. Lyra was shaken; her rampant lineup of wins prior to that probably didn't help, either. So of course she was paranoid now. Her companion, him, Quilava, had fainted at the very start of that battle. He had failed at watching over her.

"Quuu..." he sighed in depression, holding his head down.

"What's the matter, Quilava? Are you feeling ok?" Lyra said and stopped, squatting down to check his mouth and nose.

There she was again. Quilava wondered if faith could be measured or weighed, and if Lyra had lost a large amount in him. But these thoughts of his were diminished when he smelled something close by—the scent of a human who was nowhere to be seen.

"Huh?" Lyra emitted, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling up. She sensed something, too. Swinging her head around, she caught sight of a spiky-haired man who was watching her from behind a tree. Quickly aligning behind it, the man disappeared like a ninja, or a dimensional anomaly. Quilava straightened his back, fully alert and ready to battle this fiend.

"Who GOES there?" Lyra demanded._ What! What's with this guy?_ she wondered incredulously; _Does he think I can't see him?_ She and Quilava stood up, traipsed around to the tree's backside, and snuck up beside the man—a Juggler—who was curled up in a ball (among others) and fully giving himself to the duty of becoming an inanimate object. Unable to resist the obvious temptation, Lyra placed her hands on his unaware backside and began to roll him along, all while "doo doo doot"-ing the Marble Madness level 2 theme.

"Kyaaaa!" the Juggler screamed, clutching his face at this. "Don't let me fall!"

"Gwahaha!" Lyra guffawed. "You're a trainer, aren't you? So why are you hiding behind a TREE?"

"Ah!" The juggler exclaimed and jumped to his feet, immediately juggling his red and white balls. "So you recognized my magnificent trainer aura, did you?" He deliberately lifted his chin.

"Uh, no. It's because you're juggling a bunch of pokeballs." Lyra pointed out. "I... I think. Hmmm, there's some odd shadowing here and there." She paused to inspect them, since she noticed this. "There's something INDESCRIBABLY off about them. They are real, right?"

"Well they AREN'T shopped!" he declared. "So yes, of course my balls are real! And I never drop my balls, as my brother in Kanto _always_ does."

"Don't carelessly talk about 'balls' like that!" Lyra gritted her teeth and tugged at her hat. "There! One of them even winked at me. That's proof enough!"_  
_

"NU-UH. I, Juggler Irwin, shall prove it to you!" he declared, positioning his back to the wind in order to flutter his cape. "Behold my graceful BALL dexterity!" Juggling meticulously, he threw down his first pokeball. Rolling to the ground, it stopped abruptly.

And nothing happened.

"What is this?" Lyra said at it, thoroughly puzzled. Slowly, the red and white ball turned around—revealing not one, but two angry eyes. "Agh! They're not real balls after all!" Lyra pointed at Irwin. "You lied to me." She frowned as if this were a very serious debate.

"It's a ball! Truthfully, it is." Irwin defended. "By definition of shape alone!"

"Nads! He got me on a technicality," Lyra admitted, watching the teeny Voltorb with stern eyes. "Hm... A baby one?"_ It's so tiny, _she realized_._ _And it's at such a low level!_

"Charge!" the man commanded his minion, still managing to juggle the rest.

"Quilava!" Lyra cried, clutching her fists and trying to maintain her focus against Irwin's sideshow technique. "It may pack power like a battery, but you can still burst it with your Mega Impact Flame Sprocket!"

"Mega Impact Flame Sprocket?" Irwin repeated, his eyes bulging. "What kind of impossible technique is that?!"

Quilava didn't want to ruin the magic by revealing it was merely his Flame Wheel move, so instead he mercilessly blazed through Irwin's team of Voltorb and knocked out all four. Surprisingly, not _one_ single pokemon was contained in an actual pokeball. In fact, the pokemon WERE the pokeballs. Lyra felt a little envious about this.

"Wow! That was a jolt!" Irwin said, zapping his hand on a fainted Voltorb and then shrieking shortly. "Yah! I was going to dazzle you with my prize pokemon—but your prowess electrified me!"

"I didn't electrify you—you electrified yourself! By juggling LIVE Voltorb," Lyra exclaimed and tore at her hat. "That's dangerous and crazy! ...We need to be friends."

Taking Lyra's hands in his, the Juggler rolled his Voltorb to his feet and kneeled. "I thought this day would never come," he said with joyous tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're the one who saved all the Slowpoke, aren't you? I knew it when I first saw you. It was no wonder I couldn't beat you! You're the best I've ever battled! Would it be OK to get your number? I don't want to miss anything you do from now on!" His eyes glistened with fanboyish adoration and glowed bright with the pure refusal to be refused (all while refusing to become mere refuse). By refusing so much, they looped back around into being damn creepy.

"I... I need an adult?" Lyra said with due caution.

"Please? Please?" Irwin begged, hanging onto her hand with a pincher grip all before whispering: "SayyesorIneverletgo."

"Y-yeah—of course." Lyra nodded, sweating ALL the soda pop she drank earlier. "Just let go, right?"

Irwin finally released her, only to register numbers with her. Afterwards, he leapt into the air with a triumphant cheer. "Wow! Gee, thanks! Now I can call you anytime, whether anything's up or not. You know..." He quieted. "Just to chat..."

Lyra's eyes lessened in size.

"Bye-bye!" He scampered off into the trees.

"Graaaaah—" Lyra cried out, holding her shoulders and shivering, "I feel really wrong!"

And she only continued to feel so, especially after hitting a roadblock. (Literally!)

Sitting on a bench at the National Park, Lyra glanced down at the Squirtbottle obtained just awhile ago from the flower shop near the gym. She had been told to use it on the strange tree blocking the road ahead, but somehow, her thoughts and exhaustion were keeping her plastered in spot—and keeping her from moving on. _Losing the fight with Crystal really messed me up,_ she realized;_ And that thing she said about Ethan... I think I understand her feelings now... All this time—I had no idea! I never knew... that she felt THAT WAY about him... Man..._

Quilava sat beside the girl—the two of them too drained to speak to each other. The sun fell deeper through the sky, seemingly sinking beneath a distant hill.

Lyra flipped open her pokegear to check the time._ And that Juggler already called me to let me know he's been watching... _Her teeth clattered from this._ I should really get out of here.._. Exhaling deeply, she dropped her face into her knees. Comforting her, Quilava reached his stubby little arm around and patted her back.

"Hey," a girl called out, prompting Lyra and Quilava to sit up, startled. It was Crystal. "About earlier." Crystal's apologetic face flushed a bit. "I was being a dumb little chit..."

Lyra gave a whole-souled smile. After their paths had split up all those years ago_, _her and her friends were finally meeting in the same intersection. Though she'd only dreamt about it, their friendship had finally formed a mappable route. "N-no you weren't," Lyra stuttered acceptingly. "Sure you were a little rough, but you were right, I needed that battle... as an expensive lesson!" She rubbed the back of her head and wondered if she sounded just a little bit silly. "There are way better trainers out there, like you, so I need to keep myself in perspective... Oh! Also, I was thinking about it all evening, and I finally figured out why you were so into it all," Lyra said, standing up in determination: "You're just in love with Ethan. Right?"

Crystal fell on her butt, stunned by Lyra's astonishing revelation. "You... you actually came to that conclusion?" Crystal gasped. "All by yourself?"

"I'm not stupid." Lyra frowned. Although, it did take her all evening to figure it out.

"But if you realized that," Crystal thought aloud, "Then about Ethan_—_"

"_—_Yes. I know what you were thinking." Lyra folded her arms with a wise bearing. "He's my best friend, so you figured that if you could beat me, I might see you as a really good match for him_—_and then I'd help you two get together. Right?" Lyra smiled and chortled vainly to herself, thoroughly proud of her careful deduction.

Crystal went silent in disbelief. "Idiot," she muttered and then thought: _Of course. __ I called Lyra a 'love rival', bu_t she still missed out on the biggest piece.  


"What? You insult the person who's gonna HELP you out?" Lyra blasted indignantly.

Crystal shook in rage._ What a pinhead. You have no_ _idea!_ she thought;_ Isn't it pathetically obvious that Ethan loves you? If you don't want him__—_stop leading him on. You're my rival now! I wanted to defeat you, not gain your sympathy_—_

"_—_Crystal," Lyra began, her vain expression folding into one of impassable blankness; "In the end... two people will die at different times. It's impossible for lovers to be together forever. Eventually, one will go first_, _leaving the other to live on in mourning. Even if they go at once, they're separated by nothingness for all time. Though you know this, you still love. I can't understand your ways."

"Huh?" Crystal emitted before pausing, mystified. "What are going on about?"

"You chose to fall in love, right? You gave me my perspective, so I think it's important to give you yours." Lyra held up a fist. "Love is pain. There's no final fulfillment. Just the joy of the moment. And at the end, there's only the strength you have left in yourself. I want you to prepare for this fact before you accept my help."

_What's with all this, randomly?_ Crystal thought, wondering if Lyra had been replaced by a soulless body-double_; Why's she being so depressing all of a sudden? Isn't she always passionate and fearless? Isn't that why she stood against all the bad times by herself? I thought she bounced back from that accident as if it were nothing. I thought she didn't need me anymore. But now, the Lyra I knew is... _

_Who is she? _

"You're such a weirdo!" Crystal yelled, grabbing Lyra by the shoulders and shaking her like a doll. "I don't want your help! I want to do this by myself! And what do _you_ know about love? You've never married, or even dated, right? Love. You can't even see it when it's right there_—_"

"_—_I don't want to." Lyra trembled in Crystal's hands. "I don't want the gravity of that sort of alien thing to crush my world twice. You understand? There's things better in this world than love! Like..." Lyra paused, searching for an example before jumping at the obvious conclusion. "Like Pokemon!"

Crystal paused, discombobulated by Lyra's words._ Pokemon? _she repeated in her head;_ Pokemon?! _"You..." Crystal uttered, shoving Lyra and letting her flop to the ground. "Are you saying that you gave up on love before even trying it? Just because your mom _couldn't_ handle it? Because you think you'd snap like she did?"

"Don't you say that about her!" Lyra yelled, her eyes burning with rage. _How can Crystal be so cold? _Lyra wondered_. How can she? When she doesn't know what Mom went through__—_  


"_—_Amazing, Lyra! I could just knock your block off right now. You and I know that one day you'll change your mind. You'd better, or else you'll REALLY DIE ALONE. So get this straight!" Crystal exploded. "You'll meet a hot guy who'll stupefy you into forgetting your foolish ideas_... _I swear it!"

"...Swear it?" Lyra echoed._ From my far vantage point,_ she ruminated on these words, _Crystal always appeared to be a distinguished and glamorous girl__—_sharp and robust_—_a noblewoman who knew what she wanted; A no-nonsense personality. But I just don't _understand..._ _ Why is she so hellbent on love all of a sudden? _If was difficult for someone like Lyra_—_who was afraid of such attachments_—_to understand._  
_

"You're supposed to be one of those happy-go-lucky girls that guys fall all over for," Crystal said. "So don't go saying depressing things like that anymore! Because even someone like me wants to enjoy romance..."

"Crystal," Lyra said, finally sitting up from the pavement. She watched the older girl with widened eyes—unable to look away._ Crystal... You're wrong! Love wires your mind up with short-lived feel-good fluff, makes you weak, and makes you sway in strength... _Lyra determined this herself. _My heart will never be swayed by that deadly, pink emotion!__  
_

As if disagreeing with Lyra's resolution, her bag rolled off the park bench with a disapproving thud.

"Huh?" Lyra and Crystal started, turning their heads towards it.

"Piii!" a trill sounded out.

"It's," Lyra spat, the bag zipping open. A fat, chubby egg creature popped out.

"What is THAT?" Crystal screamed and pointed at it. She knew it was a pokemon, of course, but it remained the case that she'd never seen that kind before.

"It hatched!" Lyra ignored this excellent question and snapped out her pokedex to read its data instead.

"Pii..." the creature trilled, looking between the two girls in confusion.

"That's right, Togepi!" Lyra said, spreading her arms lovingly—her pokedex in hand. "Come to mama!"

"Piii! Pii!" The egg blob scurried upon hearing the word 'mama'. Jumping from the bag, he ran towards Lyra. And right past her. "Pii, pii..." He chirped, cuddling up to Crystal.

"Ge...get away from me!" Crystal cried, pushing him away. To be honest, she couldn't stand cutesy creatures—especially desperate ones vying for her affection. Not knowing it'd work against him, since the pokemon's instincts foretold otherwise, he upped the cutesy stakes, blinked his innocent eyes, danced happily, and even jumped twice. "Ugh!" Crystal groaned, so put-off by this act that she stumbled once before running off.

"Piiiiii!" Togepi cried, rushing after her while wondering what he possibly did wrong. Though he had an affinity for this girl, she definitely didn't have one for him.

"Come baaaack," Lyra sobbed, crawling forward on all fours and ending up as the abandoned angle to the bizarre love triangle. "I wanted to be the first to hold you warmly..."

Quilava shook his head in pity at the forlorn girl. And so, they set off on their journey without a proper goodbye to their newly reconciled (and hatched) friends.

* * *

Lyra stumbled into Ecruteak town, holding her mouth painfully. After squirting the tree blocking Route 36 earlier, it had revealed itself to be a pokemon. A Sudowoodo, to be exact. And it had hauled off and punched her in the jaw.

"Quil qui lava," Quilava said, trying to suggest some solutions without being a nag. He suggested they'd sleep for the night.

"It has been a long day," Lyra answered with a great weariness. "I lost to Crystal twice. In a pokemon battle THEN a custody battle."_ Togepi..._ Lyra dwelled on his cute little face; _Even though I carried you with me all that time—you chose her over me. _Either Crystal had imprinted on him long ago... or he responded to her feelings._ Of course you chose the girl who actually has dreams of love..._

Before Quilava could say something to take Lyra's mind off the incident, she stopped in the middle of the road and reached for her bag. "I need a drink," she said, holding her aching, bruised jaw. Opening her bag, she reached into its potion compartment—past the soda pop and lemonade—and pulled out a bottle. Unscrewing the lid, she took a deep sip.

"Laaaaa!" Quilava yelled, headbutting her legs (which in hindsight was a bad idea).

"Oof!" Lyra toppled over, taking a big gulp. "F–fire?" she chocked, gasping. _This ain't no Fresh Water!_ Bringing the bottle closer to her face, she read its label: Everstone Brand Liquor. "Well that explains a lot!"

"Qui la va," Quilava upbraided himself and held his face. He wanted to stop her—not make her take a chug.

"Uh?" Lyra took notice of his self-critical position. "Don't worry," she told him, standing up. "Something like this has happened before."

Quilava held his paws together in silent dismay. What did Lyra mean by 'something like this has happened before'? Wasn't she only 14? Nothing like this should EVER have happened before!

"Hey... You look really upset. It's not a big deal. I'll be fine," Lyra reassured him, facing the darkened sky. Just to prove her point, she picked herself back up headed off towards a burnt, old tower in the distance. Quilava trailed apprehensively behind her.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

**Review now! (Or Togepi becomes egg salad!)  
**


	16. Sleepy Time with Silver

"Uwup, too fast," Lyra mumbled, stumbling on a chunk of decaying lumber. In only ten minutes, the alcohol had taken it's perception-warping effects on her. "I'm moving at such a crazy awesome speed, it's overwhelming." She sweated, leaning dizzily against a wall._ This is probably because I didn't eat any dinner,_ she thought._ Or is it because I'm tired? _Of course it had NOTHING to do with that high proof liquor she happily ingested.

Quilava attended Lyra as she bumbled across the tower's unstable floor, since he felt fully responsible for this foolishness. Carefully biting and grabbing at her socks, he tried his best to guide her and make sure she didn't fall over (though he was considerably doing more harm than good).

"Lil' Bro, we're done here, you're putting holes in my stockings," Lyra said, finally giving up and turning around. "Back to the pokecenter... uhp?" Despite her companion's sigh of relief, she realized that all the walls looked the same. "This is bad... My RPG senses aren't working!" she cried, closing one eye. This partially eased her unstable vision, but she still had no idea which direction she came from._ Is this the way?_ she wondered, taking a blind corner and stepping onto a spot of the dilapidated tower's brittle flooring. Without any indication it snapped and dropped her down—and in an instant, she deployed her emergency reflexes and caught her elbows on the hole's edges. Quilava yelped in terror at her plight, but the girl managed to leverage her way out before she could be dropped several stories down and skewered on the splintered wood below. Panting, she crawled away from the death-trap and slapped the floor. "Safe!" she yelled, slumping face-first onto the floor and panting. This startled her rival, who happened to be standing on the other end of the room.

"Oh, it's you..." Silver said with forced nonchalance, agitated by the fact that he was only able to watch, powerlessly, as his rival nearly fell to her doom. "Humph! What are you doing falling into a hole?" he scolded her. "Some genius you are! Serves you right!" Especially for upsetting him!

"Ha?" Lyra greeted, standing and leaning against the wall._ Whoa!_ she thought in panic; _when__ did Jerkface get here?_ In her mind, she had been thrown several minutes into the future and with no recollection of the passage.

Locking on, Silver approached her. "...You wanted to get stronger so you came for the legendary pokemon that's supposed to be here," he guessed accusingly; "That's your story, right?"

"Nha," Lyra emitted, squinting her eyes at him. _Wha... My tongue is all numb, _she thought, inclined to stick her hand in her mouth to explore why. Fortunately, she didn't!

"Well that's not going to happen." Silver scoffed and took a breath so he could ramble on with his thoughtfully prepared speech. He had planned to corner her at the entrance of Ecruteak with it, but of course she ruined that fine arrangement.

Lyra wearily nodded off as his rant began._ I want to lay down, but I can't bend my knees. Maybe I'm already asleep, _she thought, her eyes closing._ Ha... so noisy..._

"—going to be the world's greatest trainer," Silver swore, "so a legendary pokemon would be perfect for m—"

_Whoa... _Lyra thought, her mind elevating to a higher level of consciousness (or so she drunkenly thought). "Is this real life?!" she yelled, holding her head in confusion.

Silver stood back, resolutely weirded out. _She's acting even stupider than usual today,_ he realized. "...Well, anyway," he coughed into his hand and continued, "I'm getting tired of having a wimp like you always showing up." He pulled out a pokeball. _And right when I was in the middle of training, too..._ Since he had seen Lyra resting in the National Park only hours before, he had believed he'd have enough time to move on and level-grind past her. Obviously not.

"Time to battle. Haunter, go!" Silver said, snapping open the pokeball and sending out the screaming ghost-mon_._

"Battle?" Lyra realized aloud, instantly sobering up from her stupor and roaring out a serious, straightforward attack (for once): "Quilava! Move move move, FIRE BLAST."

Sortieing as issued, Quilava pirouetted mid-air and threw fire off his back, torching Haunter in an instant K.O.

"Huh?" Silver ejected, clutching his next pokeball. _She seems more violent today, _he thought, wondering how this was even possible;_ like a different person, almost..._ "Out of desperation, weak people sometimes do OK at fighting back!" he declared pretentiously, calling out his Zubat and letting it fly upwards.

Lyra withdrew Quilava and unleashed her next fighter. "Aerodactyl, jump up!" She stomped and raised a pointer finger with bowelless force. "Thunder Fang!"

Zubat shrieked when the dragon jetted up and snapped him from the ceiling, frying him in his sparking jaws and dropping him down. Silver cringed as he recalled Zubat and sent out Magnemite. "Don't you get that I'm going easy on you?" Silver said, trying to shake Lyra's composure—even if for one round.

"Aerodactyl, return," Lyra said, clicking the pokeball shut and reaching for the next_. Magnemite, steel slash electric type...two times damage...zero times resis__t_—these unconnected words, once read from a battle magazine, echoed in her mind before rattling around and returning to fuzzy instinct. ___I really... want a nap, _she thought—this being her true preoccupation. "Quilava, ramp up and rev!" she said, pointing at a half-fallen pillar and swinging her arms around. "Flame Wheel!" As directed, Quilava spin-dashed off the makeshift ramp and dove into Magnemite, the later crashing down like a falling star.

Silver recalled Magnemite and jammed his hand into his pocket in frustration. "Croconaw," Silver hissed, readying his pokeball and almost crushing it in his closing grip, "Get out there and—"

"—Rival!" Lyra interrupted, quite aloud, and with a slurred delivery. "On this suspicious day, Quilava HONORABLY learned this onerous new move just for Feraligatr." Lyra paused, having lost a lot of breath from punctuating it's honorableness. (On a side note, she also likely meant to say 'auspicious'.) "We found it in the clearance bin!"

"WHAT?"

"Behold!" Lyra yelled and held her fists back, completely changing her pitch and accent: "Thundar... Pawnch!"

"W-what the crap?" Silver balked at this, wondering why and how she got that move. And how she made that freaky man voice.

Raising a surging fist, Quilava wailed and charged at his rival, his fuzzy little knuckles crackling with thunder bolts as it slammed the reptile's snout. Sent shooting through several piles of fallen timber, Croconaw gurgled lowly and fainted.

Straining his eyes in disbelief, Silver watched, totally bowed over by this astonishing and brutal execution._ Impossible..._ he thought;_ I had trained nonstop... To be defeated __this__ easily—__and__ by this particular idiot is..._ "Humph!" he snapped, still reeling from shock. "I'm not fighting another weakling ever again. It's just too much playing around." He would never admit that he gave his everything but STILL lost.

Lyra's pokegear rang out a victory tune. "Bakemeat funds," she droned with closed eyes, hitting her pokegear's send key.

"Aw... whatever," Silver said, thinking that he had successfully belittled her with his previous statement. Satisfied, he grabbed Lyra's shoulders and prepared to dramatically shove her out of his way. "You would never be able to catch a _legendary_ pokemon anywa—" Her heavy head thumped into his chest and her legs gave out. "—W-what do you think you're DOING?" he stuttered, catching her in his arms and wondering if this was an inverse of last time. Or if she had perhaps (finally) succumbed to his bewildering might. Wanting her to say something of all THIS—maybe even one of her many dumb catch phrases—he grabbed hold of her left twintail and tugged. No response. Upon a closer listen, he heard her snoring.

_"Humph!"_ Silver scoffed and thought:_ It's just like her to pass out from __WINNING__ a battl__e. __How ridiculous. Completely fitting of a moron. But I guess I can't blame her... She probably has the most intense battles with ME. _N_e_edlessly proud of this thought, he grabbed one of her fluffy twintails again, less roughly this time, and slipped his fingers through it. At last, he became conscious of the soft warmth—her warmth—spreading through his fingertips and squishing against his chest.

"Jrf, Jerkface," Lyra muffled out, because she was actually being smothered by him. As such, she went unconscious for a brief few seconds.

"Jerkface?... Why do you call me that?" Silver said quietly, willing to forgive her—just this once—for her boundless insolence. "It's really annoying." He squeezed her tighter anyway.

Dozing off again, momentarily, Lyra squirmed awake when she noticed her oxygen meter was only a quarter full. "Coz you are!" she gasped, wrenching her face free for air and dangling her legs over the ground. "Put me down—zzzzz..." She dozed.

Finally recognizing what was wrong, Silver grabbed her chin and lifted her face closer. Though her eyes_—_now closed_—_revealed nothing, her cheeks were thoroughly reddened and the nauseating smell of alcohol radiated off her lips. Silver_—_having grown up around criminals and their nightly binges_—_knew exactly what this was. He had seen it countless times before._ Impossible. __Th__is is... the worst, _he thought, this sudden truth forcing him to grapple with a new one. "You're drunk," he said._ This little... She __mopped__ the floor with my entire team, and all while she was SPIT-FACED, _he realized. _What am I? What am I even... I..._ "I," he began, trying to find the right words to confess his feelings for her right now, "I hate you."

"G... Ditto," Lyra mumbled, seconds before saying: "Transform..."

"So annoying." Silver gently grasped her head against his chest._ I__t's not like I __care__ how she got like this, __or anything,__ but what do I do with her? I can't leave her here. And I can't trust her dumb pokemon to take care of her, either._ He eyed Quilava, who was quietly glaring back at him. "What are you looking at?" Silver hissed, snatching Quilava's pokeball off Lyra's hip and hastily recalling him. As Silver slung Lyra to his side, he hoisted her up onto his back and, after scanning the area for any more traps, carried her out of the tower.

Only after creeping through the night's damp autumn mist (which rolled in like rain and blurred the roadside lantern light,) did Silver decide against resting outdoors.

Instead, he decided to break into one of the nearby warehouses.

Summoned from its pokeball, Silver's Magnemite sailed through a window with a vocoded shriek and shattering glass. As its steel body thumped down with the clinking shards, Silver stepped up to the window and peeked through. "How pointless," he complained. "Why does this place have no doors?" Grabbing Lyra's legs tighter and sliding her higher up his back, he lifted a foot, kicked the remaining shards loose, and vaulted the window sill. Landing in a kneel, he came face to face with Magnemite, who was twitching and sparking on the floor before him.

"Zssst–" it sputtered_, _its sole half-lidded eye peering up at him as it beeped painfully: "Neeeee!"

"Quit whining... Deal with it," Silver dismissed it, standing up to look around. "Hm?" _There's a trap door on the ground?_ He observed it._ So that's how you're supposed to get in. This must be a private warehouse for one of the buildings nearby. _"Most likely for the Dance Theatre or the Bell Tower Monitor Station," Silver continued his thoughts aloud, taking a moment to adjust to the surroundings before propping Lyra up in the corner and calling his damaged Magnemite back into its ball.

As Silver swept away some stray glass with his foot, he spied a canvas sheet atop a stack of boxes and grabbed it. He coughed from the ensuing dust cloud. "The problems she always causes me," he said, shaking the sheet clean and folding it in twos. Finding a comfortable space between the wall and a shelf, he threw it down and_—_after a bit of waffling over whether it was good enough_—_took Lyra and laid her down on it. Outside, the mist fell in height and the moonlight beamed in through the far windows. Silver knelt closer to the girl and watched her mouth move as she exhaled. Though her limbs had flopped out loosely, her body remained completely unaware of the breaking and entering it had just been an accomplice to.

She remained completely unaware of him.

"Such a careless idiot," Silver berated her, taking off his jacket and spreading it over her:_ You always have the nerve to defy and baffle me,_ _but then at times like this, you show me how surprisingly weak you are. It should make me feel more highly about myself, but when I think about it... _

_It always makes me feel even weaker than before._

With an unsure hand, Silver pulled off her white cap and leaned down over her, brushing his lips against her forehead. Opening his mouth, he pressed down and almost tasted her. Why did she always smell edible? Like a salted caramel tart? Was it just a delusion? Was he mental?

_What am I doing?_ He questioned himself again and once more_—_but still couldn't explain it._ Am I trying to eat her brains or something?_ Maybe, like before, he was hoping she would surprise him in turn. Pulling away, Silver grasped his mouth with open fingers, his loudening heart beat thumping in his ears._ Shut __u__p_, he thought in paranoia;_ she'll hear!_ Standing up, he ran to the other side of the room, far away from her, and paced uncomfortably._ I need to wait... I just have to wait,_ he told himself._ When will she wake up? How did this happen? _Before he could panic any longer, a ringing noise filled the room.

Searching the floor, Silver discovered the vibrating pokegear affixed to Lyra's bag. He unclipped it, glancing at the caller screen. "Juggler... Irwin," he muttered, flipping it open.

"Uh, hello. Lyra? It's your sidekick, Irwin!" the man's hysteric voice sounded; "I saw, I saw! I saw you get decked by that Sudowoodo_—_right in the face!"

_What the... _Silver's thoughts trailed. He frowned petulantly.

"Are you alright? What day is it? How is your mom doing? I hope you didn't lose any teeth! But even if you did, I'd still think you look _amazing__—_"

Silver's gaze darkened at the man's unrestrained flattery.

"_—_I just can't stop thinking about you, I thi_—_"

"She's ASLEEP," Silver proclaimed, slamming the phone piece shut. Throughout the night, various trainers kept calling him like this, and each time, he'd pick up the phone and hang up on them. _Annoying __fools. __What is it? Does __she__ give her phone number to EVERYONE?_ Silver thought, angry about how in demand Lyra was. Pulling up his long shirt sleeve, he stared at the time on his lowly digital watch_—_which, despite it's sparing low-tech prudentialness, at least had a light-up screen! (However, it ate batteries if he pushed the button too frequently out of boredom. Which he did.) _ One 'o one in the morning, _he thought_, _thinking this was an unreasonable time to receive phone calls._ Most of them should be done calling by now. But I still need to see one last thing..._ Flipping Lyra's pokegear back open, he tried accessing her address book but popped up her call log instead_,_ which then prompted him to inspect her EVERY call, just to make sure she wasn't keeping ANY OTHER rivals on the side. She never appeared to make calls out though, other than to her mom, so he dropped his suspicions and studied her address book as originally intended.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

_'__Ethan__', _Silver read the name to himself, irritable at just the letters alone. _What's with this 'childhood friend' note __on here__?_ Silver thought it was a very ridiculous thing to put in a phone entry. _This button says 'CALL.' Is this... is this how it works?_ He pressed it.

"... **Click!**" The other end picked up. "Lyra? Good evening!" a boy's cheerful voice greeted. "Where are you now?"

Silver scowled at the boy's exuberance and thought: _h__e's fully awake? If I didn't know any better, I'd think he's been waiting for this call... Just what are they to each other?_

"...Lyra?" Ethan called her name again.

_Good god, he has such a nerdy voice,_ Silver thought, _what's so great about him?_

"Lyra, can you hear me?"

_I'm way better than this guy._

"Hey!" Ethan laughed. "What's all this about? You there?"

Silver couldn't take it any longer. Inhaling sharply, he blew a long, sluggish raspberry into the phone piece as a crude act of defiance: "**Pllllbbbbbb.**"

Disturbed, Ethan momentarily went silent. "Uh... Excuse me?"

Silver hung up and laughed victoriously. If he had been confident in imitating Lyra's voice, he would've certainly declared his hatred instead. _But this will do, _he told himself. Clipping the pokegear back onto Lyra's bag, he laid down on the floor beside her._ It felt good to do_ _that_, he thought, _b__ut it also felt kind of pathetic. _

For once, Silver realized how childish he was. But maybe... it was only when he was around her. With this idea in mind, he pressed his back against Lyra's soft side and_—_now comforted by the idea that he was guarding her against the troubling variable he called 'other people'_—_he blissfully drifted off.

* * *

"Geh! My head," Lyra groaned, her pain doubled just from being awake. Rolling over, she opened her sore eyes_, _curbed the wringing sensation of waking up in a strange place_, _and came face to face with her sleeping, redheaded rival. "No... no way," she said, the color draining from her face as her terrible deed drew its shadows upon her psyche. _I didn't get THAT drunk... Did I?_ _No... no–_

"–Nooo!" she yelled aloud, milking the great big Milktank in the sky; "I didn't do it... I'm... I'm INNOCENT." She paused, which approvingly highlighted the intensity of her truthfulness.

Silver snapped awake, groggily lifting himself up. "What the..." he said with a huff, checking to see what was going on. It was Lyra! Pressed up against the wall! And with a face cartoonishly sketchy and blue in terror (and in a manner consistent with the medium's animation budget).

_What?_ Silver questioned flatly, his mind still dull from sleep. _What i__s she so damn upset abou–_ "Oh," he realized aloud, suddenly aware of _what_ IT was._ She really thinks something like __**that**__ happened? _he wondered, sadistically amused, but dismissing the impulse to distastefully torment her with false details. Instead, he opted for rubbing her presumptuousness in her face. "What are you so upset about, wimp?" he said. "Nothing bad happened, so stop making such a big stink."

"O–oh, you're awake now, I see! Yes. Awake. Good," Lyra babbled in relief. "You see, I... I thought I had finally given into my innermost desires_—_"

His insides lurched from her words.

"–and killed you," she continued.

In that moment, a miracle of mineral composition occurred, and Silver's face turned completely into stone. But only for a moment.

"But guess what?" She patted his shoulders energetically. "I DIDN'T kill you!" She blindly celebrated this, swaying her arms around and saying, "Can't keep me off the streets, suckers! My motives are unspoken, the body count's unknown!" Then her arms went down. "Uah?"

Shoving her to the ground, Silver restrained those arms of hers and glared at her with a familiar, cruel intensity reminiscent of the time when they were still strangers. Perhaps now he was going to kill HER_._

Lyra pushed against his grasp, but then trembled after seeing his pitiless face so up-close. Closing her eyes, she scrunched her entire neck into her spine and withdrew (increasing her defense one stage!) _This guy... he has a face that could extort a head off an Exeggutor! _she thought, oblivious to how she just created an awesome new idiom. _I didn't mean what I'd said, it was just a joke__—__can't he take a joke?_ She summoned her courage and attempted to wrestle free, but her strength was already sapped by her empty (and maybe a little hung-over) stomach. "Nn," she let out and looked away_—_tucking her chin into her shoulder in hopes of withdrawing further (hopefully not ANOTHER bad case of battle AI)._ I thought we were getting used to each other,_ she thought;_ I thought we were getting along a little better. Was I wrong?_

Loosening his grip on her wrists, Silver grabbed his jacket off her lap and stood up to slip it on.

_Right... he just wanted that back, _Lyra reasoned._ And he's probably __miffed about me falling asleep and keeping him here all night._

"I'm finished here," Silver announced, seemingly proving her thoughts. He turned to leave.

"Hang on,_"_ Lyra exclaimed, jumping to attention. "I need to say this... Thanks for going through all the trouble." She bowed a full forty-five degrees_—_her hands pressed tightly against her knees in this unspoken apology for burdening the poor angry boy.

"I-it's nothing." Silver frowned. "And I didn't do it for you. This is only because of that time in Ilex Forest, back when you..." His face reddened. "You! I just don't like owing anyone ANYTHING."

Lyra smiled and laughed goofily at him_—_like everything he'd just said was some brilliant joke. Like everything was actually back to normal once again.

Silver surged with difficult emotions_—_surprise, curiosity, restraint, and confusion. Around her, he could barely contain these outbursts. But why was she not even bothered? How could she just deflect all his attacks?

"I know, I know. Keep no debts," Lyra told him, plucking her white cap off the ground and plopping it back on her messy head. "But it makes me feel happy somehow_—_how we've got each others' backs, and twice now. It's weird, but with you... it feels like this so-called debt could exchange infinitely with no balance. Like we're partners, or maybe comrades." She raised the brim of her hat and grinned his way. "In other words, if you're ever down and need me again, I don't think I can hold myself back."

It was strange and unexpected; with those words alone, the palpitations in Silver's chest raced at unprecedented levels and filled him with a terrifying sense of euphoria. Panicking at this reasonless response of his, he grasped his shoulder and turned his back on her. _Don't __tell me__ that when we're __all__ alone, _he thought, accusing her_, ____do____n't look at me ____like that____... ____and don't look____ at anyone else ____like that____!_

"Well... At least," Lyra continued awkwardly, concerned by his silence; "At least that's what I think."

Silver pressed his hand to his chest and fought the pulling sensation inside._ Her, saying those kinds of things to me... Confuses me... Causes my chest to ache, _he thought; _I can't stand it._

"Oh hey, did your arm fall asleep?" she asked, snapping her hands like a pair of blood-letting pincers. "I could squeeze the circulation back in!"

"Tch, no!" Silver snapped, composing himself in light of her off-putting denseness. "Like you said, I was only repaying my debt. And you know what?" He stomped back around, just to menace her with his well-practiced (and honestly freakish) thug glare. "I hate you," he spat, his eyebrows furrowed, chin jutted, and neck so tensed-up, it appeared his jaw would pop off. "And... I'm going to keep hating you with everything I have. One day in the future, I'll even crush you. Gangs and fellowships? They're for the weak! So don't go around saying we're friends, _wimp_." Taking his leave, he ran, jumped the window sill, and planted off_—_the remaining glass shards sent flying from his feet. Like a ninja, he disappeared_—_his job finished, his future uncertain, and the debate over whether his pantsuit was really purple or black undecided.

Lyra stood with her arms at her sides, blinking and pondering why he always left in such a frantic hurry. Stumped, she quietly cupped her hands around her mouth and prepared her message. "I never said 'friends'!" she yelled, a lone piece of glass clinking down from the window frame.

Only the morning breeze answered back.

"Whatever man," she said. Grabbing her bag off the floor, Quilava's pokeball rolled out and unlatched itself, allowing him to pop out right before her. Still upset by last night, he glared at her with searing parental scorn. Panicking, Lyra prostrated herself on the floor in profound apology. "Forgive my insolence, lil' brother!" she cried. "I'll never drink and adventure again!" Quilava turned his fuzzy snout away from her and huffed_—_still infuriated by her bout of negligence and stupidity.

"I said I'm sorry! What else can I do?" Lyra pleaded.

"Qu! Quil lava quee!" he sputtered.

"NUUUUUUU," Lyra cried; "Anything but my booze!"

Quilava grabbed her bag and tugged it away in his mouth.

Latching on, Lyra pulled it back. "I swear I'll never do that again! Have mercy–" She lost her footing and fell down on her rump. "**Whomp!**" the floor beneath her let out a hollow sound. Confounded, she searched it and found a square outline. "Hmm, a trap door?" she asked. In light of this finding, Quilava forgot all about their argument. For now.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

**NOOOOO Quilava be stealin' your booze!**


	17. Dance Hall Days

Meanwhile, in the confines of the Dance Theatre, a Rocket Grunt, lounging on pillows in front of the grand stage, chortled and slowly clapped. "Heh heh heh... that hula number was GREAT," he said with a sleazy smile; "But now I'm in the mood for something a bit more... theatrical."

Rustling in her red and green kimono, Miki stepped back and shuddered, then eying her exhausted sisters who reacted similarly. Though she remained silent, her movements and gaze remained graceful and unforgiving; unforgiving of the man who trapped them in this endless dance.

"Line up," the Grunt said, training his rocket launcher on her. He loudly clicked the gun's safety latch. "I'm a guy of DANGEROUS character, can't you see? No hero's gonna pop up and save you, so quit your glaring and just keep dancing." He reached beside him and plucked a leaf-wrapped sweet from a tiny wooden barrel. "Do as I say," he mumbled as he chewed, "and I might let you eat."

"Please go," Miki pleaded despite his threat; "We've done so many dances for you, we can barely stand. We've been held in here for days, we can no longer dance at our best—"

"—Shush! I said LINE UP," the grunt interrupted, immune to reason; "I wanna see you all do a 'can-can', if you can!"

Out of energy, the girls cried in dismay. Sayo, the toughest of the five sisters, stepped forward. "That's it, I'm SICK of this!" she spat, rolling back her sleeve and lunging forward—her sisters diving to stop her before she got shot. "We're not TRAINED for informal dance!" she kicked and roared, her kimono splitting open to reveal her bike shorts: "We're the Kimono Girls, quit dishonoring our proud tradition!"

"And besides that, we're not wearing the right clothes for modern dance!" Kuni cried, struggling to help hold Sayo down, "you pervert!"

"Yeah... give us a rest already," Naoko muttered. "We can barely hold Sayo's wrath back like this."

"I said 'shush''!" the Grunt yelled, lifting the launcher and blasting a hole in the roof.

Screaming and yelping, the girls ducked on the stage, covering their heads as the Dance Theater's roof rained down on them.

"You know I'm not kidding, right?" the grunt said once more; "I'm not kidding. And I'm not a bad guy, either. Ok? I hear ya, this is getting kinda old, so just do the dance, and THEN I'll leave. How's that sound?"

The Kimono Girls huddled together despondently. "Who would believe that?" Zuki said, sewing dark skepticism into the group's discussion; "He's said that countless times before."

"Yeah!" Sayo said. "So we should just blitz him and use up all his ammunition. Then Zuki and I can beat him up and take back our pokemon!"

Kuni dissolved into sobs. "Hyaaa... Vaporeon!" she wailed.

Miki, who had previously put aside her pride to uselessly plead with the Grunt, clenched her fists in resentment.

"Wah waaah! Get over it," the Grunt mocked them; "No matter what you try, there will surely be SACRIFICES made by your sisters. You don't really have a choice, do you?"

"Here Kuni..." Miki held and soothed the weeping girl. "One more dance... Maybe he really means it this time. Or maybe we can find a way out. Or maybe..." _Or maybe a hero really will pop up and save us, _she added in thought; _Honestly! Morty should've been here by now. He must have something in mind..._

Rising to her feet, Sayo cracked her knuckles. "Hn, fine! But he's got it coming to him," she swore; "When we find a way out of this!"

One by one, the sisters lined up on the stage and locked arms.

"Ready?" the Grunt said, his voice echoing through the lonely auditorium.

The girls stood together—readying their legs to kick in time.

"Duun! Dun!" the grunt began in a grating singing voice, waving his gun around; "Dun dun dun dun DUUN DUUN!..."

With a bulky thump, the stage's trap door flung open and the Kimono Girls went tumbling backwards.

"Ahhh!" Lyra cawed as she raised from the trap pit, center stage; "After ten-thousand years, I'm free!" She beheld the air with evil jazz hands.

"Geh," the grunt gagged, rolling off his cushion. "What's THIS?"

"Hmm? Is this a restaurant?" Lyra asked, noticing his Team Rocket uniform, but glancing around innocently.

"Tha... wha... how'd you get in HERE?"

"Table for two, sir," she requested, ignoring this. Quilava peered out from behind her legs. "Er, I mean..." Lyra paused, looking down and counting her pokeballs. "Three, four, five..."

"No one messes with me, I'm super fierce!" the grunt yelled, blasting a rocket at her. "Get lost you clown!"

"Gyabo!" she cried, watching the projectile fly at her. "I'm not a health inspector, I swear!" She kicked the lift lever and dropped back into the pit, the projectile whirring through empty air. Screaming, the Kimono Girls dove as it blasted the back wall behind them.

"You!" the grunt roared, jumping onstage and then pointing his launcher into the pit. He rapidly pulled the trigger but nothing happened._ Drats, I'm out of ammo! _he realized._  
_

Lyra rose back up on the mechanical platform. "Time to get served," she said, motioning to Quilava. "Bag us a corner booth, 'lil bro!"

"Stupid kid!" The grunt flinched, tossing his gun aside and searching his pockets.

In a wild blur, Quilava rammed the Grunt offstage and toppled off his Team Rocket cap, revealing the man's short purple hair. "Uaaah!" the man wailed, landing on his tailbone. "I'm... I'm too old for this..." He shook his head to regain his command. "Tch! If it's gonna be like this, I'll just let my new little pets take care of you." Producing a pokeball from his side, he threw it down and called out Espeon.

"You wouldn't..." Naoko muttered, glaring at him with turbulent eyes.

"Bastard!" Sayo yelled. "Don't you dare toy with her Espeon!"

Lyra watched with hesitance. Though she wasn't sure WHAT was going on, she knew these girls were being held up, and it was all this Team Rocket grunt's doing._ Sound like he's got her pokemon, too,_ Lyra thought further; _for them to be in this sorry state, he probably stole ALL their pokemon! _

"Espeon..." Naoko called softly, kneeling and holding out her arms to the psychic-type. "Don't let that man use you. Come here."

Flicking his split pink tail attentively, Espeon abandoned the Rocket Grunt to rejoin his true trainer.

"Heh. Disobeying me, huh? I knew something like this would happen," the grunt said, whipping out a badge. "That's why I brought this." A jeweled, leaf-shaped pin twinkled in his grip.

"That's..." Naoko trailed off in upset.

"—It's an Earth Badge!" Sayo exclaimed. "Ha! Don't make me laugh! Espeon won't respect you with that counterfeit trinket!"

"Oh, but it's the real deal, I assure you—it's even an original prototype once held by the Team Rocket boss himself," the grunt explained; "It's pretty handy as is, but I'll let you in on a secret... it works even better when you do this!" He pressed the light-green gem on its tip, letting out a supersonic whirl.

Espeon stopped short of the stage and winced as if he were having some sort of a biological glitch. Twitching his head erratically, his eyes glowed red and his body began to vibrate.

Distressed by Espeon's suffering, Naoko crawled closer to him—only to cause him to screech and froth at the mouth. "What... what did you do to him?!" Naoko accused.

"It's an experimental mind-control technology," the grunt answered. "One which will be used by Team Rocket soon..." He stopped to smile smugly. "Yes, everything has changed this time around! We're different now. We have a plan—a plan which will bring Johto to it's knees. A plan so great, the boss will come back and history will be changed forever." He laughed shortly at their alarmed stares. "Why am I telling you all this? I'm just that confident. Oh, how does it work? I dunno, but who cares about the little details?"

Throwing out her arms, Lyra made up her mind and decided it was time to bring him down. "Lil' bro! Assume Attack Formation Alpha!" she said and posed, causing Quilava to break out into a cold sweat. Anything but Attack Formation Alpha!

"Espeon, use your Psychic attack!" the grunt ordered, pointing at Lyra.

Bending back his long pointy ears, Espeon swayed side to side and began to glow—his rising power-level shooting cracks down the Dance Theatre's floor.

Familiar with her pokemon's strength, Naoko stood and retreated several steps back. "Espeon has lost all control of his immense psychic powers," she said. "If it goes on like this much longer..."

Large, shattering cracks and craters punched through the walls and the floor, loosening rubble and levitating it through the psychically charged air.

Lyra watched in awe. _Is this... is this the terrifying might of Psychic-types?_ she wondered, caught off-guard by the extreme destruction all around her.

"What are we going to do?" Sayo demanded. "He's wrecking the theatre! We need a game plan!"

"OK... here it is!" Lyra called their attention: "My intangible attack formation alpha plan! First, we wait patiently, building our strength through sheer sweat and epic compression," Lyra said, clenching her fists; "Then we punch upwards like a boiling geyser! Befuddling our enemies."

"That doesn't... make ANY sense..."

Zuki held her forehead. "So basically, you run head-on into battle," she said, closing her eyes and sighing.

"Uhhh... basically," Lyra answered, not willing to let her have the final say. "Quilava, Omega Psyclone!"

Right after Quilava encircled himself with Flame Wheel and jumped through the air at Espeon, he was jolted backwards by an unseen force—almost as if he had collided with an invisible wall.

"Geh!" Lyra gasped, shielding her eyes from the ensuing energy blast. She struggled to hold herself up against the powerful gust of ionized air but slid several steps anyway.

Caught by the energy as well, the Kimono girls tumbled backwards, struggling to holding onto the stage and each other. Up above, the massive roof of their Theater fell down further—splitting apart and groaning from the psychic explosion.

"So much... Property Damage!" Lyra managed out against the psychic force, pushing herself past the falling debris. "Quilava, cautious distance! Lambda Burst!" Leaping off the stage, she then tackled the Rocket Grunt and brought him to the floor. "Gotcha!" she said, pinning him.

"Grrr, little brat! Get off," he yelled and struggled, managing to throw her aside.

Rolling away, Lyra feebly wobbled to her feet and hunched over, her stomach growling at her like a ravenous beast. _I have no strength_ _left_, she thought, knowing she was at her limit;_ I'm so... hungry. _Behind her, a hot light flashed and Espeon screamed. Lyra spun around to find that Quilava had successfully torched Espeon out of the fight.

"That's it!" the Grunt hissed; "I've had enough with playing by the rules." Pulling out two handfuls of pokeballs, he threw them forward. Jolteon, Umbreon, Vaporeon, and Flareon emerged and instantly succumbed to the Earth Badge's mind-control technology. "Mwahahaha!" he laughed. "Destroy that girl and her Quilava, my minions!"

Zuki sprang up, unable to take anymore stupidity. "No!" she yelled, putting her foot down, "You're just breaking game mechanics left and right!" And by game mechanics, she meant official Pokemon League regulations.

"Sweet mother of Moltress," Lyra said with a frown, reaching for her pokeball belt. "Go! Aerodactyl, Furret, Weepinbell. Use Thunder Fang, Helping Hand, Stun Spore–"_ What is this!_ Lyra thought in protest; _a__ 'double-double' battle? A 'double-double-DOUBLE' battle? When will it end?! _Luckily, rotating battles were years from being invented; if she'd been privy to this fact, she'd have ditched the fight right then just to swim to Kanto and burn down the Celadon Game Freak office.

"Thunderbolt, Dark Pulse, Surf, Fire Blast!" the grunt yelled, commanding his eeveelution team.

Clapping and cheering, Furret waved her fuzzy striped tail and watched as her team mates rushed into battle. Soaring up through the splintering ceiling, Aerodactyl circled around and dove down, grabbing Vaporeon in his statically charged jaws and fainting him with his Thunder Fang. Nearby, Weepinbell ejected his spores and effectively paralyzed Umbreon, and behind them, Quilava and Flareon sent out their Fire Blasts at the same time, simultaneously exploding at each other. Fire plumed out on all sides—burning up the air and filling the theatre with sweltering heat.

_The chaos!_ Lyra thought deliriously, rubbing her eyes and fighting the gathering soot; _Vaporeon and Jolteon are down, and Umbreon is unable to move!_ _With our power increase from Furret's Helping Hand—we can take out the rest! _"One last move, Quilava, close range Umbreon with Fire Blast!" Lyra yelled, bailing past Quilava to recall her fainted Weepinbell.

Furret, caught on the down turn, shrieked as Umbreon scraped her with an antimatter energy ball.

"Furret!" Lyra yelled, concerned but forcing herself to focus on what she had to do._ Aerodactyl hasn't learned any rock-type moves_ _yet_, she thought; _So I can't utilize his type advantage against Flareon... we'll use the attack bonus from his only flying technique, then._ "Aerodactyl, King of The Sky, Flying Dragon Style Wing Attack!" She directed him at Flareon. Right as Aerodactyl elevated midair to dive bomb, Quilava executed his next attack, Fire Blast, and landed a critical hit. In a final boom—a gusty flare spouted out and through the destroyed roof, shuddering the building's very frame. As the shaking quieted down, Aerodactyl landed and Quilava wandered back, panting, through the smoke.

"It's... over," Lyra said, setting her puffy white cap straight. Spinning around, worried about the Kimono Girls, she found them—a bit disordered—but alive and well.

* * *

"Yay! It's yummy, huh? Here, have some more!" Kuni sang, dishing out another bowl of rice and pushing it for Lyra's face.

"Thanks! I was starving," Lyra said with a gulp, quickly shoveling the food down.

Everyone—including the eeveelutions and the later-discovered extra hostage, the Director—sat around the ravaged theatre's only surviving table. In need of fresh clothes but otherwise in good spirits, they dined on food salvaged from the fallen kitchen.

"I'm so glad you were ok," Naoko murmured, nodding to the Director. "But it's a shame that Grunt disappeared in the confusion..."

"I don't know how I survived! Being bound and gagged in that closet and all... especially for so long," the old man exclaimed; "But I think it had SOMETHING to do with my Focus Sash. I actually MAYBE consumed at one point, all considering I can't find it ANYWHERE on my person."

"Poor Mr. Director!" Kuni cried, dropping the rice paddle and grasping her face.

"And you..." the man said, facing Lyra. "I woke up when I heard your battle," he explained. "And I must say, I'm entirely upset that you aided in the destruction of my beautiful Dance Theatre! I really hope my insurance covers this. If not, I'll be billing you with the damages."

"Graa...graaaa!" Lyra choked on her rice.

"But I'm still impressed by your courage and bravery," he admitted, reaching into his pocket. "You seldom see a young trainer these days with such tenacity. As such, I want you to have this." He handed her a disc-player machine. "It's HM03... Surf. It's an indispensable tool for potential champions such as yourself. Take it and beat this city's gym." He paused then added: "And then sweep onward to The Pokemon League."

"Wait, why are you threatening me with bills, BUT THEN giving me a reward?" Lyra yelled; "I don't want anything from you now, you inconsistent old fart!"

"Oh? I was just going to say: if you become the Champion," he added; "I'll pay for any damages you've caused, and all future damages you most certainly WILL cause... Just as long as you agree to become our spokesperson afterward."

Lyra considered his words in stunned disbelief. For all the destruction she caused daily, it was a financially sound deal—especially since she needed every pokedollar earned just to support her mother and home. Really, she'd be outright foolish to refuse it. "Alright then," she agreed; "But don't change your mind! And you'd better keep your word."

"We'll hold him to it!" Sayo declared.

Lyra bowed gratefully to the old man. Entertained by this, he chortled and demanded Kuni to give Lyra more rice—since the girl had already cleaned her bowl.

Leaving the Dance Theatre with full stomachs, Lyra and Quilava hurried onwards to the pokecenter. From the Theater doorway, however, Miki stood and watched them. "That girl! Does she even know what a spokesperson does in our case?" she asked.

The Director adjusted his fedora hat and cheekily responded, "She'll find out eventually!"

* * *

"Surf... Huh?" Lyra pondered, standing in the middle of the pokecenter and booting up the HM. She watched it spin in its player and came to a conclusion: since she didn't have a water-type pokemon yet, she would teach it to the obligatory regional normal-type, Furret. Calling out the bushy-tailed pokemon, Lyra plopped the disc player's earbuds into the pokemon's ear and pushed play.

"I still don't get how this works..." Lyra mumbled to herself, bringing to player closer. "But congratulations on your FIRST step into HM-slavedom!" She watched as Furret closed her eyes and bobbed her head to this. "Hm, must be a good track."

An unexpected ringing and vibrating shook Lyra's bag, causing her to jump. "Ah!" She fumbled to snatch up her pokegear. "H-hello?" she answered.

"I heard, I heard, I heard!" Irwin's voice assaulted her ear; "A strange man answered your phone last night! I didn't sleep a wink since I was worrying about you! Who was he? How are you? How many badges do you have now? Can you remember what you had for breakfast? I can! Hearing about your escapades rocks my soul! It sure does!"

"Wait, what?" Lyra ejected._ Breakfast. Strange man? Last night?_ she thought._ My mind is swimming with what just happened at the Dance Theatre... _"Ha!" she then cried out in realization, pulling the pokegear away from her ear. "The strange man who answered my phone last night—that must've been Silver! We were camping out after our battle after all. But he's not quite a man yet. I'd say he's just..." She froze, remembering that she couldn't call him a good friend, or much of ANYTHING. "He's my... rival." She stopped, all since she knew NOTHING further about him. Nothing worth sharing with Irwin, anyway. _Right, Silver's never really told me about_ _himself_, Lyra realized._ So I can't say for sure who he is. But, he's made one thing very clear: He hates my guts! And..._

"That's about all," Lyra announced, bringing the pokegear close to her mouth. Pure silence answered her. "Huh?" She glanced down at the pokegear screen. The call had already been ended. "No... no way!" she yelled in disbelief. "These people just say their fill and then hang up on me!" Slamming the pokegear closed, she latched it back on her bag, recalled Furret (who had long abandoned the finished HM, since she was DONE with that kinda sound and maybe preferred the indie scene), and stormed out the pokecenter door. Quilava hurried after her.

One step outside was all it took to distract Lyra. In an instant, the lukewarm autumn air surrounded her and diverted her attention to the natural scenery. Lifting her head skyward and breathing in the scent of timber and rushing water, she exhaled and finally let her battle-tensed muscles loosen up. Further ahead, orange and red leaves streamed down from the roadside maple trees. Pattering against the ground, they rattled and scrapped together in the wind—swept away in diminishing puffs, like cooling embers, far into the background. Their small riff, the song of their movement, served as the opening for a far distant melody in mind.

Nearby, a cooling mist wafted from a gurgling pond fountain. And a lost memory resurfaced.

"Qua?" Quilava emitted, following her as she walked over to the pond's edge.

Slowly, Lyra dipped her hand into the water and sunk into reflective silence_. Strange, _she thought. _Feelings are suddenly flowing back to me... I didn't notice it, but— _"—I was here before. I think..." Lyra thought aloud._ And crouching down to the ground makes it feel even more familiar. That time... It was back when I was really short._

Cold pond water seeped between her fingers and ticklish Magikarp swam up to nibble on them. The past, regaining its forgotten power, crept over her and recalled that humid night scene long ago: the voices humming and the sweet smell of fried foods filling the air on this roadside. _The only_ _relief_ _from the heat,_ she remembered;_ was this spraying fountain._

In the wonder of that night, hot lanterns threw shadows across wooden stalls. Colorful paper fans waved through the air, and monstrous, painted masks stared down at her as wood and brocade sandals shuffled past her on all sides. But despite this, her small mind was mesmerized the most by the burning fires forming a shape on a far, distant hillside.

_"Look! It's a man! He's on fire, look!" _she had said, pointing at a blazing symbol high upon the blackened skyline. She repeated herself again and again until her dad finally responded. Adults were always so preoccupied.

_"Ha, yeah. I see... You're right. He's burning greatly, with his arms and legs stretched out,"_ her dad finally said. He lifted her up onto his shoulder so she could see it better._ "He's burning with a large and invincible_ _will! He's a good representation of the human spirit, isn't he?"_

Lyra had said something to him afterward, something like: _Dad_,_ you always say weird things. Like a super hero._

_"That's because you must boldly say your feelings. When you do, they'll form awesome lyrics. And when you're the good guy, you'll always win... I learned that the hard way."_

She was enamored by this. But. _Why are those fires up there?_

_"This is the night when the visiting spirits of our loved ones return back home."_

_Who?_

_"Our Grandpas and Grandmas, and their Grandmas and Grandpas, all going back to the spirit world."_

Lyra's true words were abandoned in time, but she could never forget her father's.

Smoke poured from the hillside fires then—like souls disintegrating into the night. A night which could never be restored.

_What a strange festival,_ Lyra thought in the present, knowing such a celebration was only there to remind people of the dead. Like all good things, the emanating warmth of her memory went away, and all she was left with was half-cool daylight and the dried-up leaves down the road.

_Did you go home too, dad?_

Quilava watched her without interruption. Dazed, Lyra pulled her numb hand from the freezing pond water._ It seems I can't forget after_ _all_, she thought;_ Because even without thinking, I am always influenced by him. By trying to be strong, all by myself, I feel his absence even more and recklessly struggle to fill the void._

_But still, I have to battle harder... to make it up to mom._

Standing up, her eyes peered past the Bell Tower to the greenery beyond. There, she recognized that same hillside from her memories. Far beyond were autumn trees—standing invincible, shedding their embers.

She felt her throat choke and her eyes moisten, and a terrible weight dragged in her stomach.

"Hoi," a deep voice greeted, causing Lyra to whip her head around. Standing beside her was a tall, young blond man cloaking half his face in a wide purple scarf. Despite his hidden features, he possessed a distinguishably foggy gaze—like he was peering deep into her. Like he could see the void she fought so hard to bury. "Hah... There's no mistake," he said to himself, barely audible; "It's that girl... those dreams..." Stepping closer, he leaned over Lyra and swept his fingers over her ear—much to her horror.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

_**The hillside fire is called daimonji.**_

**Ages! (more to come later):**

**Youngster Joey: 12**

**Lyra, Silver, and Ethan: 14**

**Crystal: 15**

**Juggler Irwin: 25 **

**(lol)**


	18. Attacking the Darkness

"Whoah," Lyra exclaimed, jumping back a safe distance from the grabby young man. "I don't carry cash! And I'm all out of freshly baked justice!"

The young man, entertained by Lyra's evasion abilities, observed her bearing further; her small shoulders, stiffened once again, had already shrugged off their previous gloom in preparation for battle. _Such a change... __Wasn't she on the verge of tears only a moment ago? _he wondered;_ And I thought she was in need of comforting. Hn. Girls are scary. _But honestly though—nothing scared HIM of all people. "Make no mistake, I have no wrong intentions..." he said with distinct numbness, all before presenting her an orange leaf. "This was simply in your hair."

"Oh," she said, highly embarrassed. "Sorry. I had assumed! Because your face is covered..." She scratched under her hat. "Well. You know!" She nodded lowly.

The young man pulled the scarf away from his nose and glanced away with tired eyes. "My name is Morty," he said. "I am Ecruteak's Gym Leader... Ah." He glanced up and pressed a hand to his forehead's purple sweatband. "My energy is depleting. What a stressful person..." He went on like this, groaning in pain, almost as if Lyra were some variety of energy-sucking parasite.

"Meh?" she emitted, kind of insulted.

"This girl has bad vibes..." Morty said under his breath; "What a troublemaker. At least she saved the Kimono Girls. Hm... All as foretold. Now I can go take another nap..." He walked away.

Lyra trembled with indignation. "If you have a problem with me, say it to my face!"

Morty stopped. Crossing his arms, he craned his neck back and gazed at her. "Are you outraged?" he asked. "Then you should come to my gym and challenge me. And after you've settled down, you should tell me about that friend of yours... The girl who's gained Suicune's trust, though... Hoh, I see." He smirked slightly, but only for a second. "Your mind ignores her perspective, just so you can wallow in self-defeat. How rich... But never mind that. I just wanted some info on that legendary."

Lyra gawked at him._ He's talking about Crystal? _she wondered;_ And my mind? What's he going on about?  
_

"You're quite foolish," Morty said at last; "At your stage in the cycle, you'll never overcome bad energies by repressing bad memories..." He withdrew his gaze. "That's something only infants should do." With this final stab, he left, and with the same dispassion as his words.

"The-the-that..." Lyra stammered to herself, grabbing her marshmallowy cap and nearly ripping it in two; "—That guy pisses me off!" _His babbling didn't make much sense,__ but it really struck me_, she thought._ Is it because it's true?_

Enraged and morbidly curious, Lyra hauled after the gym leader—with Quilava, not sure what to make of the curious exchange, dashing to keep up.

* * *

To Lyra, entering Ecruteak's gym felt akin to losing one's way on a moonless night._ The atmosphere changed,_ she realized, her ears perked to the sound of dripping water and the eerily groaning boardwalk;_ It's hard to believe that I'm inside a building. _Two torches provided the only point of reference on the walkway, along with a man in shades loitering beneath one of the two.

Lyra looked ahead at the narrow, uncertain path veiled in darkness (and devoid of any safety rails). "So," she began curiously, perking the attention of Quilava; "What happens if we fall off that walkway? Is there water down there? Is it deep?" She folded her arms in fretful contemplation. "Or maybe, could it possibly be a pit that drops one DOWN into the inky, skeleton-filled bogs of the SPIRIT WORLD?"

Frightened by the prospect of either, Quilava latched onto her leg, trembling.

"If you want to hold on, that's fine!" Lyra went on, dragging the leg he was affixed to. "But don't be afraid! If one of us falls in—let us both fall in." She paused and jabbed a finger at the darkness. "Because together, we can survive whatever mishap we stumble into!" she threw out her arms, resisting the urge to tremble. "This is our truth! The truth we fearlessly uncovered together. Restlessly, and undead-ish-ly, we crawl back up one-hundred-ten-million times, and endlessly, we accomplish over one-hundred-ten-million things! This is our awesome curse," she exclaimed, challenging everything Quilava knew. "Undertake and accept it!" Her words shattered the darkness.

With his heart suddenly refueled with fire, Quilava let go, stood tall, and braced his muscles while nodding. Much like the eery sounds around him, he accepted his role in the universe and willed himself into existing beyond the unfathomable darkness—and into becoming a warrior of otherwordly presence. Lyra's sidekick!

Nodding back at him, Lyra stepped forward._ I irresponsibly say these kinds of things,_ she thought;_ even when it's almost hard for even me to believe them. But... it feels right! I live in constant disbelief, anyways. _Faint memories of last night's battle at the Burned Tower entered her mind, like a fear, and unsettled her with its mystery. Silver—a delinquent she'd been warned not to sympathize with—was continually mirroring her every action, appearance, idea, and feeling. But underneath his dedicated opposition, there was an unexpected display of honor; the type she felt was similar to her own. _Despite all warning, I can't ignore him,_ Lyra thought, _because my rival... is part of who I am!_

As if a chain had been throw off from her mind, Lyra's consciousness drifted to the Dance Theatre situation. Past the trap door, she'd encountered Team Rocket once again—a coincidence of fate she could no longer ignore. Perhaps now, she and the theatre were the only ones who knew about the enemy's designs. _And ma__ybe, _she realized;_ I have to take responsibility for what I know and do something to stop them._ Either fight them, or seek help from the police who terrified her... She stopped. Was the path ending ahead? In response, the nature of her thoughts changed. In the consuming darkness, every single worry became amplified; this growth of emotion cornered her and forced her to relinquish to every fear. Every memory.

_Just what has been happening to me all this time?_ Lyra wondered;_ How could I have acted so invincible when I was only stringing along, making stuff up as I went? _She thought she had attained enough strength and freedom to live wild, but then Crystal appeared and showed her she was lacking the simplest thing. _I built up so much confidence, but it all crumbled when she defeated me at the Radio Tower... and when the egg chose her heart over mine, that old, ugly, unwanted feeling of inferiority showed up—that sickness towards always being compared to her, and always being judged as inadequate.  
_

_No matter how much I run, I can't get away from it. There's no end in sight._

"I'm lost," Lyra admitted; _I don't know where I am—it's too dark._ Only the flames on Quilava's body lit the area around their feet. Catching the flicker of candlelight in her peripheral vision, she gasped when she saw an amphibious old face with glistening eyes.

"Can you reflect any further on your challenges?" the woman asked, readying for battle.

Lyra carefully noted her. It was an elderly woman in glasses, on her knees, with dim candles strapped to the sides of her head. _Is she in the middle of spirit channeling__?_ Lyra wondered in awe, sending out Quilava. Their battle begun and the old woman sent out Gastly. One after another, round after round, Lyra felt the residual effects of the ghost's Night Shade—an attack which tormented victims with the pain of their own past experiences. It dropped Lyra every time and made her wonder, why, it never affected the ancient woman. "Are you," Lyra said, trying to sort out why she had such control, "a Medium of spirits?"

"I can be whatever you make me to be in this darkness," the Medium replied. "If you only rely on the outside light to show you the world's face, you'll never escape, even yourself. "

"Is that so..." Lyra realized aloud. _So... there's a light within me,_ she thought. _Does that mean... I have to take over the things I've seen, just to navigate the rest?_ It barely made sense, yet, she felt she was starting to understand herself.

With a final Flame Wheel, Quilava defeated the last of his enemies and huffed, physically worn out alongside Lyra—but revived by new awareness.

"Ah. Well done. You understand," the Medium responded; "If you're ever lost in the darkness, you only need to see beneath it. If you're familiar with the floor supporting the void, you'll be able to walk on something solid."

At that, Lyra walked forward—her resolve strengthening._ My rival shows me his_ _hatred_, she thought;_ but he also shows me something else behind it. Something heartfelt and valuable. It's distant but it's not unreachable... If I trust him, I believe he'll show me something new about myself. And... in return, I think I can help him... _Lyra realized, remembering his defiant attitude towards Team Rocket, one which he'd held long before hers. _If I fight Team Rocket during my journey, we might end up fighting them together. Then, he'd finally see why comradeship isn't so bad!_

In the dark, her experiences were connecting together into a manageable path.

_And Crystal..._ Lyra understood that even though they were alike in some ways—enough to be compared—they still had their own strengths and weaknesses. Crystal was the greatest genius of the decade, mature, unrivaled in beauty, and unafraid of love, but—for the longest time_—_trapped and ran by the expectations of others. _Always studying, C__rystal would watch from her window as I played... Just watching, with a dispirited, flat expression._ Lyra weighed this evidence; she wasn't sure what her own real strengths were yet, but she knew Crystal likely coveted her simple, unalloyed freedom of unconventionality. _And likewise... I covet her strong heart... A heart unafraid of being reached.  
_

Navigating another bend in the path, Lyra encountered a second Medium. "Not sure of your way?" the old woman asked. "Even a child can discover an answer, but they won't know what to make of it."

The battle begun and Lyra sent Quilava against the Medium's team; his Flame Wheel sputtered and engulfed each foe, his power increasing with each rush of experience.

"We arrive at things eventually, but not without any effort," the Medium revealed. "You have to relate along the way to get there. By comparing your thoughts and surroundings, you're able to keep moving. You're able to take action."

"From ideas to action..." Lyra muttered, watching the last enemy Haunter dissolve into blackness—his form scratching out from visibility as he tried to evade. Quilava yelled and struck, burning up the darkness. "I need to go after my goals, but never lose sight of the passage."_ I'll evolve—by never forgetting the blood sweat and tears along the way_, her thoughts went on;_ Together, we overcome each harsh season, one after another. And remarkably enough, we remain undaunted when we must pass through them again—in a cycle that endures our whole life and beyond—to a time that only our abandoned loved ones experience. Even though we're mortal, we remain undaunted by this routine, because... we are strengthened by each turning revolution!_

Overcoming every battle in the dark, Lyra forged onward, fully regaining her sense of meaning until finally—she saw the offending Gym Leader, standing motionlessly on a high ledge upon the battle platform before her. The young man's eyes were closed and his arms were crossed—as if he were meditating while standing up.

_There he is! _Lyra tensed up when she recognized Morty;_ That annoying guy!_ She punched a fist to her palm. _Time to take him on!_

Hot light from the battle platform's torches lit the water underneath, its reflection dancing on the ripples lapping a large boulder in the curious sea beyond. As if pulled from this harmony, Morty opened his eyes. "It's good of you to have come," he greeted, frightening her with his sudden awakening. Despite the girl's quick jerk backwards, Morty remained motionless and cool. "Here in Ecruteak, Pokemon have long been revered as gods," he explained, his words pointing to a lofty purpose; "Many legends tell of these gods appearing before truly powerful trainers. Of them all, I've always been influenced most by the tale of the rainbow-colored god... To learn more, I have trained here all my life. As a result, I can now see what others cannot..." Morty stepped off his ledge and approached his distrustful challenger. "And I saw the shadows of _those_ who will make these gods appear," he said. "In the cloudiest shadow, I saw you. But the person who'll tame the rainbow-hued god, I believe, shall be me!"

Lyra took her cap off and beat it against her knees. "Taming, the eh, gods, you say?" she repeated, repositioning her cap—as she often did whenever an adult burdened her ears with notions of future responsibility. "Right right—if you wanna do that, I'm not gonna stop you. I mean... I know I'm over-the-top, but jamming a god into a ball and wearing it on my hip just isn't my style." She paused and scrunched-up her mouth with weird repressed laughter. "It's exhibitionism you know."

"Heh," Morty snorted, all defensive. "Are you stupid? I only explained how I was going to tame the rainbow-hued god, regardless of your existence. I could care less about what you actually think or do."

"EH? WHAT'S THAT?" Lyra roared and raised her fists, ready to have a go—despite Quilava insistently holding her back by her stockings. _What is this guy talking about?_ she pondered, angered by the gym leader's continued rudeness; _Well whatever, I'm ready to rumble. He's just a chair-fart with a god complex!_

"And for good reason," Morty quipped. "I've seen things that you can only dream of... I once fought with the god of death... and won."

Lyra stopped and stared, flummoxed. "Huh... god of death?" she said, unsure of what that meant, but perplexed by something else._ This time I KNOW for a FACT that I was using my 'inside my head' voice,_ she thought, poking her round cheeks to further motivate her brain power; _so why did he answer to this 'inside my head' voice?_ Her heart stopped in mortification. _Wait! This weirdo... can he actually READ MY MIND?_

"Does that frighten you?" Morty asked tiredly; "People's reactions to my abilities are always too extreme to bear... That's why I usually keep it a secret... Anyhow, don't worry about privacy issues. The contents of your mind are safe with me... and my third-party business partners."

Lyra tightened her fists in injustice. "That's no fair!" she yelled. "You never even mentioned it in the contract!"_  
_

Morty laughed and turned away to leer at the abyss. "Gods are capable of instantly solving our problems... and yet instantly introducing us with new ones," he said, changing the topic. "They make this world what it is... Aren't you intrigued by that power? Don't back out, the future already guarantees the chosen's success—" he faced back around and pointed at her, "—I thought you were the type to accomplish over one-hundred-ten-million things!" He froze when he saw his challenger had long stopped paying attention to him.

Lyra, crouching on the floor and muttering to herself, ripped a sheet of aluminum foil from a long box. Nearby, Quilava sported a shiny, cone-shaped hat—presumably one that had been fashioned right there on the spot.

"Tin... foil... hat," Morty said, unable to pull his eyes away. "Are you SERIOUS?"

"Yes," Lyra said gravely, standing up. "I am secured and ready for battle." The torn sheet of tin foil clung around her already ridiculous hat and formed an impressive spire which rivaled the Goldenrod Radio Tower's.

Morty held his face with his cold and lanky fingers.

It would take FOUR DAYS to tell the tale of their epic battle.

* * *

On a cold maritime afternoon at the Olivine City gym, Silver forcibly clenched his teeth and scowled—doing so to keep from laughing in disbelief. "Aren't Gym Leaders held to a certain standard these days?" he questioned, blocking Leader Jasmine's path. "Running off to do whatever you feel, just because an old pokemon's about to croak... Get it through your head." He got in her face. "The pokemon's time is UP... Just let it DIE already."

With a loud smack, the crying girl slapped his face. Though Silver took the hit without flinching, he instantly averted his eyes. A red hand mark surfaced on his pale skin.

"Disgusting," Jasmine said shakily. "You're disgusting... I—" She held her hand, wincing in pain. Gasping in guilt over what she had just done, she managed her resolve, shoved past him, and then stamped down the cold aisle. Pushing through the gym's front doors, she vanished.

The gym trainers glared at Silver with critical eyes and cursed him—judged him—even though none of them wished to care for the sick pokemon in Jamine's place._ Hypocrites—all of them,_ Silver thought_._ He stood, isolated, in the center of Olivine City's gym. "What a weak, overemotional insect. I can't stand girls like that," Silver grumbled to himself, touching the growing red, sore mark on his face. For some reason, Lyra came to mind. If she saw him like this, what would she say? What would she do? Would she laugh at him and say it serves him right? No... she always did the opposite of what he expected. She would possibly even feel sorry for him—taking him far away to someplace where no people were, just to put ice on his face again... and stay beside him. He shook his head. _Of course I'm_ _disgusting_, he thought;_ I have the nerve to think about such things. _

Walking the aisle with an unbroken air of cruelty, Silver hid his swelling jaw with his hand and made it to the door. Though it was against his will, he felt that the scenario he had imagined moments before sounded sadly comforting._ I'm such an idiot, feeling this way,_ he thought;_ I haven't seen Lyra in days... I couldn't find her in Ecruteak or here in Olivine... Where has she been? Did she fall off the face of the planet? _Silver scoffed aloud._ Even if she did,_ _I bet she'd be busy having a good time without me—doing impossible, ridiculous things like always... Just to spite me! ...Why?_ Silver couldn't understand it; _Why do my thoughts always turn to her? _He was certain that he hated her. Pushing past the slow, automatic gym doors—his eyes winced shut from the bright, white sunlight filtering down through the thick coastal clouds._ Stupid bright sky... Just rain already! Freakin' clouds._

"Ahhhh... I'm glad Milktank's all better now," a familiar voice rang out; "But I still don't get how that grain silo blew up like that... Well. At least it's not coming out of MY pocketbook."

"Que la," a pokemon stated. "Quell la, va la."

Silver's heart quickened. It was HER...

"Don't start worrying me like that. The Director will definitely pay the damages, Sayo promised to hold him to it!" The voice then deepened beyond the range of a normal girl's: "After all, we've got... insurance."

"Veh."

"Oh, HUH? You're pretty confident!" A scuffle kicked-up between the two companions; "FOR A WALKING BARBECUE LIGHTER."

_~To Be Continued...~_


	19. Tales of the Demon King

The gym doors whirred shut and Silver's perception of time stopped, a miracle aided by the sky's unchanging light and the satisfying promise of seeing her again.

Lyra—bumbling around the nearby corner with Quilava chewing her out in turn—stopped as if she could sense Silver. It was more likely she'd heard the loud doors instead, but a bewildered expression flashed across her face.

Finally. After days of searching for Lyra—after days of (irately) anguishing over her location and cursing her for leaving—Silver had finally found her. He could barely put his excitement into words._ Maybe in the past few days she was missing, _he thought,_ she learned how to sense trouble! __An idiot like her has to eventually realize that I'm not someone to be trifled with._ As senseless as this thought of his was, it had better cohesion than his rampaging emotions. Stalking forward to accost his rival, Silver leaned into her face and scoffed. "...You again?" he said, flicking his head back, just to spend air. "There's no need to be alert." He glared at her from an ultra-smart angle. "I don't bother with wimps like you."

Lyra gulped, forcing an uneasy smile. _It's unbelievable_, she thought; _Morty said I barely learned anything in those few days of spirit training, but I can already sense this much from Silver. The form of his mind, his intent, and that he's actually... a very stressful person!_

Silver stood back, annoyed by her silence. _Isn't she going to say anything?_ he wondered; _To tell me what she's been up to? Do I have to be more direct?_

"Where have you BEEN?" Silver angrily demanded. He rationalized this clingy behavior of his by believing that anyone would be THIS curious. In said circumstances.

Lyra put her head down, an ominous shadow casting over her face. "That itself is an amazing tale..." she began, her voice deepening harrowingly; "...That would take **four** days and **four** nights to tell..."

Despite his bothered eagerness to hear more, Silver placed a hand on his hip and feigned disinterest. "Humph! Like I care," he retorted.

Lyra's head sprung back up. "Then why the fudge did you ask?" she asked incredulously, scratching her forehead. "Whatever. Smell ya later, Jerkface." She swung her arms out and marched onward.

"Hey, just wait a minute!" Silver said, grabbing her wrist and slinging her back. "Aren't you going to tell me?"

"Heh? You said you didn't want to hear it."

"That's not what I said! I said, 'I don't care'! That's what I said about what you'd said," he stopped to breathe, "about how long it'd take you to say it!"

Lyra narrowed her eyes at him—entirely done over by all these 'saids' of his_. _"Hey man you don't have to be so pedantic about it," she answered.

"Shut up! Just make it short," he commanded, letting go of her hand in awkward self-awareness.

"Yes'm." She cleared her throat. Outstretching her fingers, she felt at the air—once again milking the sky as if such a thing were actually possible—and outlined her tale. "My grueling ordeal began with that one fateful battle..." she began, causing an awkward paragraph jump to the past.

* * *

"Take off those ridiculous hats, now," Morty ordered. "You're violating my GODLY gym."

"No! I'm liberating my MIND," Lyra exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her tin foil hat. Quilava deliberately protected his as well.

"Hm... So you're truly serious..." Morty remarked and then thought: _She honestly believes that foil hat will protect her head. I believe it's a lost cause...  
_

"What do you mean? I've BEEN serious." Lyra frowned determinedly. Despite her efforts to look fierce and formidable, the tin foil hat bulged incongruently and pretty much ruined everything.

"Never mind then. I'll still use this battle to ascend to the next level," Morty declared, "Gastly... escape from the shadows and Curse our foe!" The pokemon erupted from his pokeball and cackled madly.

"Right. Let's go, Quilava," Lyra exclaimed; "Burner on! Fire Dance of Death!" In a flashing circle of fire, Quilava rolled across the dimness of the battle platform, slammed Gastly, and knocked him out in one hit.

Morty frowned.

_There..._ Lyra thought victoriously, _You're not so tough, you wannabe psychic-type Gym Leader! What's wrong?! _She flapped her arms at him._ Sabrina kick you out, hwuu? Didn't stand a ghost of a chance, guuu?  
_

Keeping his cold, blank eyes on her, Morty reached for his belt and threw down his next pokeball. A real buff Gengar popped out.

"A fully evolved, high base stat pokemon from a three-stage line," Lyra observed aloud, her concentration breaking when she recognized how unfair this was. "Who the hell do you think you are, the CHAMPION?" She tore at her hair. "You're LIKE the fourth gym leader, KNOW YOUR PLACE."

"This is what you get for insulting me," Morty said, "...in your head."

"NUUU—these hats—" Lyra cried out, ripping off her foil, "they do nothing!"

Upon hearing this awful news, Quilava lowered his shiny crumpled head in disappointment. He quite liked wearing his and was crushed to hear that it was no longer in vogue.

Lyra reached for another pokeball. _This calls for a fully evolved normal type, then, _she thought._  
_

Morty chuckled slightly.

"Huh? Hey, cut that out," Lyra demanded, shaking a fist at him. "Creeping me out..." She splayed her arms and legs like a striking bird and threw down her next pokeball. "Fwa, Mistress of the HMs! Pursuer of the sounds! Go! Furret!" Popping from her ball, Furret trilled cutely and lightly flicked her ears and tail. "Wall of the Water God, Surf!" Lyra ordered, sending Furret frisking off the platform and speedily galloping atop the gym's dark waters.

Morty raised a hand to direct his own fighter. "Sucker Punch," he said. Gengar seemingly evaporated midair and let out a far-off chuckle—followed by the sound of Furret's shrieking.

"No, come back!" Lyra screamed, trying to find her own fighter across the waters beyond. It was then that she noticed the water flooding the wooden battle platform and soaking her feet._ Huh?_ She wondered, puzzled momentarily, but then remembering that it was Furret's Surf attack. A tidal wave of black, thick water raised up and over them, surging up and pushing at them just like a moving wall. "Hwaaa!" Lyra yelled, water sweeping past her face and the lights going out. As she swam in a panic, her fingers tore through the suffocating darkness and managed to smack against the wooden battle platform's slippery planks. Jabbing her fingers between them, she grabbed and held on long enough for the water to dispel. She wheezed and gasped for air.

One by one, the platform's extinguished torches relighted. Snapping to attention, Lyra found Furret and Gengar standing in the middle before her and staring each other down._ That attack didn't knock Gengar out_, Lyra thought;_ But hey, he looks a little tired! Just a few more hits—_

"—You almost drowned," Morty warned her; "Do you really want to use such a risky move again?"

"Grr!" Lyra ran for the nearest torch and clung on tightly. "Heck yeah! That's what being a battler... is all about!" she spat; "Furret, once more! Wall of the Water God... REDUX!"

"Desperate..." Morty noted, bracing himself as well. He withdrew Gengar and sent out a Haunter.

Holding her breath, Lyra went under once again. Her heart pounded and her sinuses ached as water forced itself in._ Freezing..._ She shivered with the thought. _This water's really cold...!_ The water washed back away and she gasped for breath, gritting her teeth and pumping a fist when she saw Furret had landed a critical hit. Haunter fell in defeat.

"No..." Morty gasped, fighting to keep his composure. "We've got more discipline than anyone else!" He unlatched his next pokeball and sent out another Haunter.

Lyra scowled and angrily puffed out her cheeks. _The gym-leader-difficulty-curve has suddenly increased!_ she thought;_ How many pokemon does this guy have? Complete overkill... Exactly what you'd expect from a chair-fart with a god complex..._

"Call it what you'd like... but this is a true trainer's power!" Morty raised his voice. "Haunter, Sucker Punch!" Haunter cracked a solid fist across Furret's face—sending her flying off into the virtual night.

"Nads! Furret fainted!" Lyra cried and ran, pointing her pokeball at the dark waters and aimlessly zapping. At last she caught a hold of Furret in its beam and returned her to the safety of her pokeball. "Heh... No more joking around!" Lyra threw down her next pokeball. "Go! Aerodactyl!" Aerodactyl stomped onto the platform, bouncing his head and ecstatically flapping his webbed wings. He was getting pumped over this honorable chance to fight a gym leader.

"Haunter, Mean Look," Morty said, waving him on.

"Bite!" Lyra ejected, Aerodactyl swiping through the air and biting down on Haunter with his dark-infused jaws. Haunter squealed with a horrendous voice.

"No, it's not over yet...not yet!" Morty gasped, finally snapping; "I still believe we can do it!"

"Huhuhu!" Lyra laughed and flexed, Aerodactyl stomping and victory-dancing beside her. "Do WHAT?"

The Gym Leader sent out Gengar once again—his last pokemon. "Shadow Ball!" Morty shouted.

"Bite him bite bite bite him!" Lyra jumped maniacally, her hands gripping her hat tightly in anticipation of the arriving decisive moments.

"Whatever!" Silver said, rudely interrupting Lyra's story. "So then you won, right? Is that your big 'amazing' tale?"

"No! Though we did bite him, Gengar proceeded to sweep Aerodactyl and the rest of my team with Shadow Ball," Lyra said, shaking angrily. "Don't interrupt the intense flow of battle like that!"

"It ALREADY HAPPENED, idiot."

"...'No... no way.' I uttered. I was down to just Quilava," Lyra narrated, ignoring Silver. "Quilava's pointy tin foil hat glistened heroically in the torch light. My heart shuddered and bounced in my chest."

"All that happened, and he's STILL wearing that retarded hat?" Silver commented.

"I said stop interrupting!"

* * *

"You have no chance of winning," Morty said, flinging his soaked, purple scarf back over his shoulder. "Gengar is definitely faster than Quilava. You're outclassed."

"Y...you're right," Lyra admitted. "You might as well go all out."_ I'm pretty much doomed, _she thought. _After all, my chances of winning are a mere 18.75%..._

"Such pessimistic words. Even your thoughts betray you." Morty simpered arrogantly. "Gengar, finish them off with a Shadow Ball!"

"Hm! But tonight, we make those impossible odds ours!" Lyra punched her fists together and summoned their courage. "Quilava! Embrace the cosmos in your heart, burn it high, and make a miracle happen! Outrageous Luck, Fire Revolution!"

"Ha!" Morty laughed. "You'll never defeat me with those childishly named attacks—"

In Quilava's paw, something gleamed. Darting forth as a living wheel of fire, Quivala rolled, tore-up the platform, left a trail blazing behind him, and completely ran Gengar over.

Groaning and grasping at his pitiful red eyes, Gengar keeled over and fainted.

"WHAT?" Silver interrupted once again. "What the heck is wrong with you? You just made that last part up. Gengar should've gone first."

"I swear, if you interrupt me one more time," Lyra threatened darkly; "I'll... most likely do nothing."

Silver face-faulted to the ground.

* * *

Morty pushed up his purple headband anxiously, his spirits hardened by this defeat. "Why... I don't understand..." he uttered. "How did this happen?"

"How? I knew Gastly's evolutionary line was fast," Lyra explained; "And since everyone in this gym used Gastly and even Haunter—I gave Quilava a Quick Claw to hold beforehand. Just in case."

"But the chances of such an item working, and at that precise moment..." Morty thought aloud; "No, wait. If I had used Sucker Punch, I would've gone first. I could've defeated your Quick Claw in priority... But I was too confident because of what you were thinking..."

"Ha! That's what you get for relying on my thoughts too much, you—" Lyra pointed at him, guffawing triumphantly while simultaneously mangling the prestige and heritage of their proud national language, "—You CLEAR VOYEUR."

Briefly stunned, Morty scrutinized her for a full a moment before coming closer, taking off his scarf, and strangling her with it.

"Is this over yet?" Silver interjected. _Amazing. She seems to have a natural gift at inspiring people's hostility. _He thought this even though he was one to talk.

"NO YOU," Lyra yelled, transporting her setting back to Ecruteak's dark gym for the last time.

* * *

"Mmf! Wraaah!" Lyra gagged and struggled, tearing at the wet purple scarf transfixed tightly around her face. _Can't... breathe...!  
_

"I don't think our potentials are so different..." Morty began, still holding onto her makeshift leash; "But you seem to have something more than that..."

_A new form of torture?!_ Lyra thought, staggered by this all-new method. _No wait, t__his must be like... a form of waterboarding or something!_

Morty looked down at Lyra tiredly and thought: _She has some weird, politically incorrect ideas... Whatever._ He abandoned this observation to further watch her squirm and squiggle for a full minute. At last, he knelt down and pulled the scarf from her blue face. "The badge is yours," he explained, waiting for her to revive enough to take it. "With it, even stronger pokemon will respect you... And you'll be able to cross the ocean with Surf." He held the Fog Badge out to her, which she cautiously snatched.

Chortling darkly, Morty rose to his feet and crossed his arms. "There's another thing..." he said. "I want you to partake in special training. Your quick instinct but thorough lack of awareness is amusing, though also troubling. Due to it, I foresee disaster in your future."

"Special... training?" Lyra repeated. _DISASTER?_ she thought._  
_

"Meet me at the entrance of Dark Cave in an hour," he explained sullenly. "If you stand me up... I'll CURE and haunt you and your family for EIGHT generations." A ghostly, purple aura swirled from his back—fully supporting his supernatural threat.

"NOOOOO!" Lyra tore at her hat, screaming bloody murder.

* * *

"Well lucky you," Silver remarked resentfully; "Is that why you were gone for so long? I hope that 'special training' paid off and made you less of a weakling."

"No, no. This training had nothing to do with battling," Lyra dismissed him. "That demonic man took me deep into Dark Cave, to show off his karate rock smashing skills and then he took me to Mt. Mortar, which he claimed was named after him. Once we were there... he tried—unsuccessfully—to teach me psychic powers..." She paused and then added: "I think."

"What?" Silver jumped, thinking how unbelievable this was. He stubbornly wondered why anyone would waste their time with Lyra. "How did it go?" he asked at last, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Lyra crossed her arms coldly and stood sideways, her head turned away. "Oi, fetch us some water," she said with a low, lazy voice; "Hn, climb up there and pick some mushrooms. Why? Because I'm hungry. Oh wait, never mind, I'm not hungry anymore. Oh... They look like your head, don't they?

"Hoi... Mush-brains, sit still. Sleep with your eyes open... Hang upside down from that ledge... Yes. You're done now. Secret training? No, I just thought you'd look funny." Lyra pushed up an imaginary headband, her eyes just as catatonic as Morty's.

"...'Mush-brains' really does suit you," she continued. "Ehh? No. I won't stop calling you Mush-brains. At least... not until you start calling me Master... Mush-brains." Lyra's voice finally returned to normal. "Whoa, summoned the inner candidate for Crimson Goddess there," she held her chest and breathed deeply. "Anyways, he was something like that, the Demon King was."

Silver went rigid. He didn't even question Lyra's referral to the man as 'The Demon King.' He remained oblivious to the first reference, however.

"Ha..." Lyra cringed wearily. "And whenever he wanted to nap, he told me creepy stories in order to make me too scared to run away." Her face sweated from the memory. "Horrifying things, like how the air in Lavender Town once drove kids fatally insane—or how a whole family was once killed in a faraway mansion by a doll... Also at night he'd say, 'Sit in my lap and let me tell you a tale...' And then he'd blather on endlessly about pokégods."

"You actually SAT in HIS LAP?" Silver blasted, enraged by her foolishness.

"I escaped that way, yeah?" Lyra pointed at him. "Don't you pay attention?"

"You've said NOTHING about escaping until now!"

"Oh yeah," Lyra realized aloud; "Well... On the fourth night, The Demon King talked himself unconscious. Somehow I managed to stay awake the whole time. So I escaped! As quickly as possible."

Silver glared at Lyra, not-too-impressed by the audacity of her tale, and wondered:_ Does she NATURALLY attract all this troublesome stupidity? She should know better than to put herself into such danger._ Increasingly furious about all this, he lashed forward, grasped her denim overall straps, and plucked her off the ground. _Getting held up by RANDOM MEN, pissing me off,_ he thought,_ who does she think she is? _He was forever striving to uncover JUST WHY, exactly, she always made him feel so angry—but now the means to this answer was dangling right before his very eyes. Just by pulling her off the ground, a wave of assurance fell over his troubled mind. Relief. Right now, the only force exerting on Lyra, suspending her in place, was HIM. _That's right... that must be why I was so worried,_ he realized, his logic tragically bombing at the last moment; _It must be because I wanted to be the one to manipulate and torment her, not that guy... That's right. How dare she let someone else bully her! _

"I see," Lyra grunted, dangling in place, "You're one of those awesomely strong people, huh?" She strained against her jean harness. "Gh... ok. I admit you're no ordinary fighter. P...put me down."

"NO. Don't you understand?" Silver snapped and got in her face, nearly bumping his forehead against hers. "You don't know when to fold, or how to distance yourself, or how to play down your weaknesses. More than anything else, danger follows that kind of recklessness. It's magnetized by it. So stop walking into these situations alone, like you're always gonna win. Stop acting like it's no big deal! You know NOTHING about how to lose on purpose, or when to be the villain, or how to use your weaknesses to an advantage." He was certain that she didn't understand anything about self-preservation. It wasn't some glorious parade. It was a brutal escape in where the only pride kept was your own. "Get that through your dense, spongy head. That's how you're REALLY supposed to be strong, all by yourself. "_  
_

Lyra gazed into his eyes—thoughtfully bewildered. "If you hate me so much," she began, alluding to their conversation from the time before, "then why are you giving me such good advice?"

Silver dropped her to the ground, unnerved. There was no getting used to this lunatic. "Don't be mistaken. I was just testing to see if an idiot like you could understand something so basic," he said. "When you run into manipulative idiots like Morty, you should bluff with all KINDS of outrageous threats and then run, not listen to the idiot's demands. Failing to do so ALSO makes you a total idiot... Hopeless."

Standing up, Lyra shamelessly patted the dirt off her bottom. "I see... Well. Whenever I get into trouble, I usually manage to come out on top, so I guess I'm a bit spoiled. But I see where you're coming from, rival," she said; "I wouldn't know anything about how to lose on purpose. I'm not as skilled as you are in that area." She scratched the back of her head and grinned. "But I agree, I could employ more trickery. Thanks for the concern, it somehow makes me feel like we really ARE comrades, after all."

_This girl is...!_ Silver thought, clenching his teeth and biting back renewed disgruntlement._ I was __**insulting**__ you. I wasn't trying to show my concern for you or anything, I was...__ Wait. Did she just credit me for practicing my own damn loser's philosophy_? It appeared so; it perfectly explained why Lyra was still somehow convinced that he was some strong, dependable comrade and not some weak whiny rival who always got in her way (as he was)._ Maybe she has delusions and sees me as some chivalrous figure who always lets the lady win... __Ha. She's too gullible!_ Pleased by this, he pulled his jacket collar away from his neck and cursed the bright sunlight once more. Suddenly, it was making him sweat. _Or is it, _he thought_, because she's bothering me again__? That...  
_

"Tch..." Silver spat, forcing a subject change. "Speaking of weaklings, the city's gym leader isn't here. Supposedly taking care of a sick pokemon at the lighthouse."

"Eh?" Lyra said. "Another sick pokemon? Hm. On this battlefield called life, there are no coincidences absent of fate..." She balled her fists and released them into the air. "It's like the planet is crying out! On the verge of death! Hungry for berries and dreams!" She brandished her arms and concentrated, as if to exude righteous healing powers. "Lil' bro! We've gotta DO something." Quilava, who had been sitting there the whole time, snorted and nodded in fierce agreement. And just like that, their earlier disagreement over their shady and enigmatic damage insurance was forgotten. (Including the consequences this new endeavor most likely shared.)

"Humph... Boo-hoo!" Silver intoned, annoyed by their heroic stance. "Just let a sick pokemon go! A pokemon that can't battle is worthless!" On this point, he knew he really WAS trying to lose on purpose. He just wanted Lyra to smack him and hate him already, because he didn't know how much longer he could take being on her good side. Whenever she treated him like an equal, he found himself wanting more. _But I'm sure that this greediness_, he thought, _is just another weakness... _Shelving this bitter thought, he found his success, instead, in Lyra's now crestfallen expression. "What? You disagree with me?" He managed a smirk, but only in hopes of heating her up instead. "How typical... You bleeding hearts never learn. Bleed for every weakling along the way and you'll only leave a trail of gore."

"No..." Lyra shook her head. "You're right. Eventually... you have to let someone go. Sometimes this death abruptly happens. However." She turned towards the horizon, and for a moment, Silver feared she would leave. "If that situation gifts you with the bounty of time," she said, "you can't blame one for trying to do something about it. Life is struck down so easily, it leaves you feeling weak. I would... No—anyone—would wish for a long enough moment to intervene."

_What?_ Silver thought, his arms going limp at his sides. _What is she even talking about?_ Though vague and insane tangents were sorta her thing, it was difficult to believe that his rival could say something so dark and heavy. It made Lyra seem even further away—like that time back at Ilex Forest.

Who did this to her and who could be blamed? Could he just blame it on her?

"Why... don't you go to the lighthouse then?" Silver huffed, wondering why he was helping her, or that sick, weak pokemon—because if anyone could save it... "Who knows. If it helps... maybe it'll make you feel a bit less weak!" He shoved her out of his way, his heart pounding in his throat. Running from Olivine City, all his anger and indignation rose as he pondered the cause of Lyra's gloominess. _It must be him,_ he thought;_ If Lyra's back from her kidnapping, then that idiot Gym Leader must be back as well... _

_It's time to teach him a lesson. The only one who can mess with Lyra... is me!  
_

_~To Be Continued...~_


	20. Ghost Train

_Ecruteak Gym..._ Silver thought; _So this is the place Lyra was talking about? _The area was well-lit, allowing him to walk the empty paths with ease._ Where are all the gym trainers? Why are all the lights on?_ He stopped to glance around._ That guy better be here. Just for his insolence, I'll hunt him down if need be! _Traversing the boardwalk in long silence, he arrived at the end, at last, and found who he was looking for. On the battle platform before him stood his adversary: a tall, motionless young man with sleepy eyes and scruffy blond hair.

"Hey creep," Silver called out; "You ready for a beating?" It took some time before his opponent moved.

"Hn," Morty finally answered. He stepped down from his ledge mumbling, "Here comes trouble..."

Dashing up, Silver reached and snatched a fistful of Morty's shirt, pulling him down to his level. "Quit playing around. You know why I'm here, right?" Silver said. "Or are you just a fake? Which is it, mind reader?"

"It's pretty obvious... that you came here for revenge," Morty replied. "And that you actually believed Lyra's distorted impression of me."

Silver loosened his grip. _So there's two sides to her story?_ he thought.

"That's right..." Morty said, shoving his hand into Silver's face. "I was far more romantic."

"Why you!" Silver whisked forward and lunged at him with a swift but deadly fist. Morty side-stepped and watched Silver stumble past.

"You're not here for a gym battle," Morty quipped; "You just want to pound my face in... Heh. For such violence, I could report you to the League and have your trainer profile thrown out."

"Tch." Silver halted, still clenching his fists.

"Don't want that now, do you? I can see why... You still have to prove your dad wrong..." Morty nodded. "How touching."

Silver circled back around. "Yammering on like that... are you looking to die?"

"Why are you even here?" Morty remained in-place. "Is it for Lyra? Or... do you actually want a badge?"

"That's my business!" Silver broke out, rushing at Morty with a blindingly-fast current of punches. "So! Stay out of it!" Swoop by swoop, his sure fists hit empty-air and his pride began to wound itself.

Morty, dodging each oncoming jab effortlessly, twisted as fluidly as smoke and stepped away, leading Silver across the platform. "Your business, indeed," Morty said with smug mirth. "Good luck, then. I'll just get out of your way while you work things out."

"Shut up and hold still!" Silver kicked, finally slamming his foot up, over, and across Morty's collarbone.

Jumping back, Morty grasped his pained shoulder. "Eh... You're not half bad," he admitted; "For a shrimp."

"Calling me childish names..." Silver took a swing at him again. "How old are you?"

"I'm several years your senior," Morty expounded, catching Silver's fist. "However, it's impossible to equate our ages... Because yours only counts in Shrimp Years."

"WHAT?" Silver huffed through his nostrils. "Like hell it does!" Offended, he deflected Morty's grasp on his fist and violently pummeled him into reverse—the gym leader's heels dragging and digging up the wooden floor as he slid.

"That's... right! You're at the bottom of the evolutionary food chain," Morty said, trying to disorient his foe and regain lost ground. "And I've worked too hard to be shoved around... by a shorty like you!" Lashing away Silver's fists with a single arm, he grounded himself and delivered a shattering palm strike, bashing Silver off-balance.

"Wha—" Silver barely had time to yell out.

Kicking Silver's legs out from underneath him, Morty tumultuously landed the boy on his back.

"Ugh...Impossible..." Silver groaned._ Why is this annoying guy so strong?_ _Is it because of his idiot ghost powers?_

"Hm..." Morty squinted his eyes at him. "I wasn't born with the greatest health," he revealed; "So I trained some years under The Karate King Kiyo to overcome my weaknesses... Of course, I took his techniques even further."

Aching all over, Silver sat up and yelled: "If you're so psychic and great, surely you know that I DON'T GIVE A CRAP about your past."

"Of course." Morty leaned down, patting the boy on the head. Silver smacked his hand away. "You and Lyra... You're both very similar." Morty laughed in a sinister and discomforting way. "The two of you are stubborn rivals... Always doing things relentlessly... I was surprised to find out she's actually attracted to that in you."

Though he hated Morty just as much as before, Silver instantly warmed up to his comment. "... Really?" he said, making his inner contemplations painfully obvious.

"No, not in THAT way." Morty face-palmed. "...For a guy who misunderstands his own feelings, you really get ahead of yourself..."

"What are you talking about? Cut the stupid mind games." Silver fumed. _I understand my feelings PERFECTLY!_ Silver mentally defended himself; _They're just TOO complex for an idiot like you to understand, so don't even bother._

"What a strong sense of denial." Morty shook his head. "Make all the excuses you want, but you're still just as clueless as she is... I've seen it."

Silver held his forehead in disbelief. _Does this guy think he's being funny?_ _I'm vastly different from Lyra. You could even say we're opposites._.. "Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," Silver snapped; "You're just an unwanted stranger—spying on our private lives... It's troubling."

With a bemused smile, Morty laughed at him, almost as if to say: _"What a funny thing for YOU to say... Window Creeper." _Maybe this man had seen everything._  
_

Feeling ridiculed, Silver frowned. He hated to admit it, but at this time, he was painfully being outclassed in rudeness!

"Heh... You're a very funny kid," Morty said at last. "I could play longer with you, but I'd rather resume my nap. I know it didn't look like it... but I was catching some Zs... and listening to the things I can't normally hear awake. It's far more interesting than dealing with you here, so... how about we get this gym match over with?" He held out a pokeball.

Never taking his eyes off Morty, Silver scowled. _So he was listening to things he can't normally hear... when awake... __Wait, what? He was sleeping? _he questioned himself further;_ But when I first came in here, this idiot was just standing there with his eyes open... Hey... didn't Lyra mention something like that in her story?  
_

Silver finally understood: Morty slept standing up. With his eyes open.

_Ugh!_ Silver thought, repulsed by how disturbing this was. _If this is what all ghost-type trainers become, then... I don't even know. Whatever! I guess I should just be glad that he doesn't want to turn me in now._ "Tch. A pokemon battle, huh?" Silver sputtered, still disturbed. "Sounds fine to me. But don't rush it, you'll be in dreamland soon enough. Because ghost or not, I'll make you and your team never wake up."

"Hoh, thrilling. And how about this? As an added bonus... I'll tell you something odd about Lyra," Morty said, baiting him along. "But only IF you can defeat me. Remember... putting me to sleep with boredom doesn't count, so if you're relying on that tactic, just give up already."

Silver reached into his jacket pocket and pondered what this bonus secret could possibly._ So it's about her... and it's something that even this freak finds odd?_ _This gives me a bad feeling... _But if it was something important about Lyra, he wanted to know about it—at any cost. "Fine, whatever," Silver agreed, taking out a pokeball; "I suppose I have the time." _And I have just the trump card, too..._ he thought;_ to ensure my victory..._

Morty laughed again.

"You ready?" Silver glared at him, pitching his pokeball. Their pokemon emerged on the battle platform and their fight began.

* * *

"Hello? Lyra?" Crystal's voice pulsed from the pokegear; "About your visit to my lab the other day... I just got your pokemon back from my colleague, and I'm ready to return it whenever you want."

"Ah, hey Crystal!" Lyra answered. "Done already, huh? Thanks for the special move tutoring, much appreciated!"

"What are you saying... I'm just making up for what happened."

"I know I know." Lyra plunked down on the lighthouse's cold, gray floor and glanced over at Quilava, who was excitedly jumping up and down to peek out a high window._ In turn, this could be a good chance for me to make it back up to HER,_ Lyra thought sneakily. "So anyways," she chirped, "how about you give me the pokemon right now? I'm here in Olivine, and I'll be here for a bit longer. I'll call if anything comes up." Four days ago, right before Lyra entered Dark Cave, Crystal had called her up to apologize for 'taking' Togepi. Though Crystal had offered to replace Togepi with a rarer pokemon, Lyra simply asked her for the future favor of some program-assisted move tutoring instead. And so, when Lyra had finally escaped from Morty—and with a newly captured pokemon in possession—she visited Crystal and cashed in on her offer.

"Alright then," Crystal agreed. "I show up if I can."

Lyra grinned to herself mischievously._ I should call up Ethan and arrange him to meet us, too..._ she thought;_ Crystal would enjoy that._

"Lyra... Just one more question."

"Hm?"

Crystal held her breath. "I offered you ANY pokemon... My colleague is well-versed in genetic code hacking ... He could have set you up with ANY move set. So tell me... Why did you want your Dunsparce—of all THINGS—with Body Slam?"

"Eh? Isn't it obvious?" Lyra asked. "Something like Rock Climb or even Hyper Beam would be way too suspicious. And I just love Dunsparce!"

"Listen. Even though I wasn't trying to—and honestly DIDN'T WANT to—I ended up taking YOUR Togepi," Crystal said. "In this case, you deserve a pokemon of equal strength and rarity. I'm just saying..."

"I don't understand. What _are_ you saying?" Lyra scratched her head, completely stamped over by Crystal's hesistance.

"Come on!" Crystal roared, audibly thumping her desk in the background. "It's a Dunspace! A DUNSPARCE... Don't you understand yet?"

"Ur... No...?"

"Have you looked at its face?" Crystal spurned. "You seriously want such a SLACKER on your team?"

"What are you talking about? Dunsparce has a just and honest face!"

"Just and honest? It looks NEGLIGENT and OAFISH! Sort of like yours!"

"I prefer the term 'incorrigible'!" Lyra stood up, rallied by Crystal's disrespect. "And hear this, we may look this way, but inside lurks an incorruptible might... And a whole new way of thinking!"

"Ok. You know what? ...Whatever makes you happy!"

"Right, sure! If you feel that way, then," Lyra reconsidered, "you could rustle your connections and snag me a French Octillery and call it an offering!"

"What? Why does it have to be **FRENCH**?" Crystal went crazy. "And for such a common pokemon... Use the Global Trade Station! Where do you _get_ these ideas? Do you just wake up in your own drool thinking, 'OH HEY, I want a French Octillery, you know, wearing a beret and chewing on a baguette and all that stereotypical twaddle! 'Cause, OMFG, IDK, IMHO, that's just so friggin' cute and—"

"—Crystal," Lyra whispered, fearing for her life, "we love you."

"Qui-vaaa," Quilava pitched in from the background.

"UGH. I'm hanging up now," Crystal groaned. "**Click!**" the phone sounded; **"... Beep beep beep."**

"She... She really did hang up on us," Lyra said, dejectedly closing the pokegear. She collapsed on her hands and knees. "Crystal! Why have you forsaken meeee?" she cried.

Quilava, already too accustomed to his trainer's outbursts, stood on his haunches and passively patted the girl's back. But then, before any more sulking and heart-searching could take place, a terrible whooping noise blared from upstairs: "BLAAAAAAAGH—"

Awed by such a majestic sound, Lyra bolted up and furrowed her eyebrows. "That sounded like... a massive barf..." she said._ Or Crystal when she's disgusted with me!_ she thought._  
_

Quilava gave a similar expression of consternation. When it came to vomiting, he had never before heard such force or power!

"Oh, poor Amphy!" a girl cried from beyond; "There there... here's a towel..."

"BLAAAAAARF–" Someone blew chunks YET AGAIN.

Lyra listened carefully._ That must be the sick pokemon that Silver was talking about... _Nodding at each other, Lyra and Quilava hurried onward to investigate.

* * *

"Sneasel," Silver called, noticeably gloating over his pokemon's speed; "Faint Attack!" Too fast to be seen, an afterimage lingered behind Sneasel and his claws sang out a satisfying, "**KA-CHING!**" Landing, poised and motionless, Sneasel looked away as Gengar's fainted body collapsed with a thud. "Over so soon? That was hardly a challenge at all," Silver said, recalling Sneasel. "Humph. What a let down."

Morty returned Gengar and stoically folded his arms. "You win a fight with a stolen pokemon," he said, "and then you have the nerve to be this proud of yourself?"

"I didn't know you were the type to bicker about a loss. I did what I did... And I won. You knew it all along but never said anything, so hold your peace."_ And your bargain,_ Silver added in thought. _Tell me what you know about Lyra._

"Depraved little shrimp." Morty scoffed. "You're right. I have no right to say anything now that the battle's over... I'll keep my word, then. Now about Lyra... Oi. I wonder if a little kid like you can even recall it... Remember the Magnet Train crash three years ago?"

Silver focused on the ground in thought. _Wasn't that... that big scandal? _he thought._ It halted further construction on the rail line for a long time but... what was the big deal again? Stupid smug idiot... I guess I can't remember._

"Figures... Well, let's just say that the project's head and lead engineer perished in the crash," Morty continued. "And as it turned out, he was a haphazard, irresponsible foreigner with a bad history and troubling connections. When this went public due to investigations surrounding his death, the companies he employed were shook down and countless bad businesses were upturned overnight... The nation's central giant was uprooted and the names of various esteemed infrastructure corporations were tarnished for their close involvement."

"I can see why I forgot," Silver said, his pulse quickening at the mention of all this. "I could care less about foreigners and dumb business gibberish. Those things are meaningless. Tell me, what does this have to do with my rival?"

"Petty fools, humans are," Morty said. "Sponsors for the project pulled out unanimously, severing all ties. Company partners demanded remuneration... And in their collapse, they held the engineer's family responsible for the damages."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Silver rushed. "What are you trying to say?"

"Now, the rail crash. The accident involved a two-seater shuttle on its fifth run," Morty went on; "One person died, but there were two people inside... Being a prototype, the shuttle had a design flaw. The engine-side seat was unsafe. So the engineer sat in that seat, and gave the sounder one to his daughter... it was a fact she overheard once. Just once."

"You're full of it," Silver said, the volume of his unsteady voice raising. "What you're saying is... what you're trying to say is..." It couldn't be, but it was making so much sense.

"When the shuttle derailed, the engine and its bearings folded the area around her father, effectively pinning them inside for eight hours," Morty said, jarringly detached from his narration. "Somehow, she survived with few injuries and, subsequent to her hospital release, a shady financer threw her into questioning and documentation. A sort of confined jail. And her mother... Heh. I think I'll stop there for now."

Ready to disregard the whole account as an elaborate ruse, Silver forced out laughter. "Do you get a thrill out of making messed-up stories like that?" he asked. "Because that's what it is. Messed-up! Enough of your jokes."

"It's not a joke," Morty said, laughing about it anyway; clearly death wasn't that big a deal to him. "Just think about it. Though Lyra's a bit crazy, she's worked very hard for her happiness... It's quite heartwarming, actually." He held his chin and smirked at this musing. "Don't you just wish that you could steal that joy and bottle it? Or even yet, take the source and keep it for yourself?"

Silver gulped and—bracing his trembling core—finally understood the true horrors of The Demon King.

"Don't think too hard on that last one... Here's your badge, Shrimp." Morty said, leaning over and dropping it into Silver's hand. Taking one last laugh, likely at him, Morty tiredly ambled off down an invisible path and disappeared behind a sudden deluge of thick fog. Presumably to go nap. Possibly in hell.

Cursing and swearing, Silver held the badge in hand but felt no sense of reward._ What was I... even lecturing her about earlier? _he wondered, glaring at the ghost-shaped badge's almost sad-eyed face._ Strength. And survival. As if she was hopeless... as if she were grinning at me ignorantly. As if I myself actually had a clue... _He gripped the badge in his hand. _I'm such a tool. I heard so much, but w__hy... why is it now even harder for me to understand her?  
_

Shoving the badge into his pocket, Silver stomped his way back down the boardwalk and left, the eerie dripping of the docks returning in his long-awaited absence.

* * *

_Such kindness!_ Lyra thought in admiration, watching Jasmine gently wipe the sick Ampharos' feverish head. _Such ladylike grace! How determinedly she cares for __this poor sick pokemon, who has valiantly lit the dark seas for so many years... _A single tear of honor dripped down Lyra's face. _I am moved by such brotherhood!__  
_

The Ampharos chocked deeply, a hoarse sputtering rolling deep inside its belly.

"May I ask you to get some medicine for me? Please?" Jasmine begged.

"Yes. Of course!" Lyra exclaimed, jumping at this opportunity to support their cause; "We'll surf the furthest ocean, cross the heavens, raze entire kingdoms, and kick off anything that gets stuck to our shoes. We'll do ANYTHING to help."

Though he had reservations about razing kingdoms, Quilava nodded his head in full agreement. "Quila," he said.

"Thank you..." Jasmine sighed relief. "Thank you so much. Amphy thanks you as well."

"We'll be back upon the morrow!" Lyra tipped her hat, leading Quilava into the elevator. Outside, the two ran towards Olivine City's pebbly shore with purpose but then stopped, the both of them mesmerized by the many islands in the distance. Dangerous looking whirlpools churned in the far off waves, and jagged rocks bobbed up and down like drowning victims.

"It... looks..." Lyra paused, unable to put her sense of intimidation into words. "Really far."

"Qui va quil la," Quilava scolded, wildly waving his paws around; "Que la va quee quil!"

"Yeah? Of course I said some brave words... And I meant every one of them!" Lyra proclaimed. "We'll swing by the pokecenter and grab our part-timer, Quagsire. He'll ferry us across in Furret's stead... because she needs a vacation I think. And then! I'll carry your tiny form safely in your round, all-encompassing pokeball... Can you handle that?"

"Hn," Quilava grunted.

"Let's get ready, then!"

_~To Be Continued...~_


	21. Silver Breaks In

Perching silently atop Quagsire's blue and shiny head, Lyra traveled onward, the sun burning at her back and stinging her arms. All around them, the ocean hummed and breathed, and in the distance, whirlpools fizzed and foamed.

Quagsire gurgled and swam onward, trying his best to keep Lyra above sea level. He slipped, though, and fell under for the third time that voyage, submerging Lyra up to her waist in cool water. Despite this, she made no complaints. He was smaller than her, and she was impressed by his guts and strength thus far. For a moment, Lyra imagined herself riding Furret and drowning them both. In another moment, she wondered why she HAD TO ride a pokemon at all. "This is why those swimmers were laughing at us," Lyra murmured, finally understanding her position—surely, it'd be more respectable to swim by her own talents. "This is completely unnecessary! Quagsire. Do you really wanna do this?"

Quagsire spoke to the best of his ability—churning up air bubbles from his mouth. His small, beady eyes blinked. _Yes. I want to show you I'm_ _strong_, he indicated, in his own unique words.

"Hmm." Lyra frowned. "You don't have try and prove anything. This isn't a test of courage!"

Quagsire continued gurgling, frantically paddling beneath the surface. _But if I don't show you that I'm strong now,_ he revealed through chokes and gurgles, _you'll give away my spot on the team. Right?_

"That's true," she admitted, pulling her hat over her face; "But I will replace your position on the team, regardless. You ARE a part-timer, after all. But if it helps any, know that you'll receive full retirement benefits. AND a golden parachute!"

Quagsire went under completely at this, submerging them both beneath the dark, choppy water. And Lyra's ears clogged. Opening her eyes—which stung from the sea salt—she blearily saw Quagsire staring at her through the shadows. Somehow, they had been dragged deep into an undertow.

_Did he dunk me?_ Lyra wondered;_ If he did, I can't blame him! A skilled trainer would make up some lie until getting to shore. Something like: "__Give up your spot?_ No, of course not! You'll be with me forever." Lyra thought this all was very true, at least until she recalled that most people couldn't talk to pokemon anyway. In effect, this sad actuality rendered her entire scenario presumptuous and devoid of any realism! _Ah, that's right! I too was once unable to talk to pokemon, _she recalled further. _I didn't care, either, at least until Ethan picked it up from my dad. Ethan was born gifted at understanding_ _pokemon, and all living things, so he learned it instantly__! And then when we were a little older, Ethan showed me how to listen to the Tentacool mumbling in the water. It was scary at first, but then... it made everything feel right._ Even now, the reverberating cries of those creatures, carried by nearby currents, presented themselves as the quiet voice of the water.

Reaching out and grabbing Quagsire's fin-like paw, Lyra slowly swam with him and floated up through angled pillars of sunlight, the two hand in hand, like wanderers of a fifth dimension. Surfacing to the loud world above, Lyra gasped for air and they continued onwards to Cianwood, quickly, since they had to hurry not only for Amphy's sake, but for Crystal's as well. If Lyra was still going to pull off her mysterious plan, she knew she had to finish this detour first.

_Crystal, I promised to help you_, Lyra thought, remembering the promise she'd made days ago at the National Park, despite Crystal's protest. _Because I believe in your heart, and I believe in Ethan's. _This wish for the two to be together... for Lyra, this was a wish from long ago—her reason for departing on her own path, without regretting, and without looking back at theirs. _Because. Before the eyes of such riffraff... it becomes apparent that Crystal is the princess, and Ethan is the knight._

Even if she spent these days just blindly running past their paths, she still earnestly wished for their one connection.

Still hand in hand with Quagsire, Lyra fiercely kicked to keep her head above as they swam. "Back there... Did you dunk me on purpose?" she asked, still gasping for breath. "Are you mad at me?"

Quagsire shook his head, his voice bubbling out.

"Oh... Sorry. I simply thought you had good reason to!"

The current was too strong, so Quagsire had given out. He was leading them through the water now, wholly tired from his expedition, but safely tugging them from the force of several whirlpools._ I thought he was getting back at me,_ Lyra thought; _Yes. I wonder... Don't pokemon ever get sick of carrying us?_

Pulling Quagsire close, Lyra rested him on her back. "I'll take it from here on out," Lyra declared. "Because I just realized something! Though our paths are inevitably different, we're still together on this one—even if its span is temporal. In this moment alone, I can change it to its opposite. So!" She briefly ceased her rambling to struggle for air and balance. "Enjoy this rare opportunity to surf on a human. And whenever you feel like it, brag to your peers or descendents about it. Uwahaha!" She laughed and paddled on. "I'm sure it'll be quite the conversation starter."

Quagsire opened his giant mouth and grinned eagerly.

Closer and closer to Cianwood City's shore Lyra swam, Quagsire happily riding on her back. Humming, she pulled out of the water at long last, with seaweed clinging to her face, and took her first steps on the new land.

A light flashed—startling her and Quagsire.

"Perfect!" a man said in rejoice. "Its title shall be 'Sea Debris'."

"Hey!" Lyra exploded, genuinely angry. "Don't go taking pictures without people's permission!"

"Oh? But you've given me permission before. Don't you recognize me?"

Lyra thoughtfully narrowed her eyes at the bald, sweaty man. "Hmm... Yeah!" She pointed at him rudely, with Quagsire still holding onto her head. "You're that photo booth guy from the Goldenrod Tunnel!"

"Cameron's the name." He nodded. "I've been needing an emotionally stirring photo for a friend... Would you be alright with this being published?"

Lyra's mouth opened wide—her eyes shrinking to tiny black beads and her face turning a shiny, vivid blue. Uncannily, she resembled the pokemon clinging to her cap EXACTLY. "Uh... well..." she answered, quite unsure about this compromising position she had been photographically captured in.

"I'll pay you."

"OK," Lyra cheered. She glanced at Cameron expectantly, smiling—waiting for him to pull out his wallet. Quagsire leaned over the girl's soppy cap and stared soulfully at the man.

Cameron sweated._ When's she going to put the heavy pokemon down?_ he wondered. _That... that's not normal._

"Yo!" a mysterious man yelled, breaking the awkward silence and rushing up from behind them.

Lyra toppled over in surprise, flinging her and Quagsire across the sand. "Oof!" she sputtered.

"You're the girl whom Morty was talking about!" the mysterious man declared, shaking a finger at her. "The girl... who saw Suicune!" He watched Lyra with an air of hesitation. "You do know Morty, right?"

"M-Morty?" Lyra repeated and pushed herself up, paling profusely at his continued mentioning. "Ye... H-he is... the devourer of wayward souls. The torturous master of the underworld..." Her head rattled around like a shaken juice canister. "Otherwise known as... The Demon King. URFG." Her face plopped back into the sand and her body convulsed and curled—much like a piece of plastic on a stove top. After a few heavy seconds of shrinking and stiffening, she went still and at last there was no further movement.

Investigating this phenomenon, Quagsire poked her with a stick.

"It appears she died from fear," Cameron said, taking a picture. What an inspiring subject!

"No! You can't do this to me!" The mysterious man dove headlong into the sand (in his fancy purple suit and all). Grasping Lyra's shoulders, he shook the life back into her. "You can't go now... I FORBID you from TAKING Suicune's secrets with YOU!"

With oval, monochrome eyes, Lyra stared up at the man blankly. _Who is this guy?_ she wondered;_ Is he... is he a wizard? _Noticing his short white cape, with its smart giant red bow-tie (which was not unlike the one on her own cap), she instantly understood her and his pained, intertwined destiny. Their reason for existence. The sole purpose of their converging path.

She had to have his cape at any cost._  
_

Noticing that Lyra had returned to him**, **the man let go of her and stood up, his hand on his chest. He cleared his throat. "Sorry about that," he said and made himself take a deep breath. "Lost control there for a moment! I get so choked up about Suicune that I can't help it... I've been chasing after it for ten years, you see..." He then muttered to himself; "Ten whole years... chasing Suicune... irreplaceable time... disowned by my whole family..."

_Wow,_ Lyra thought, quite sad for him. _This guy has problems!_

Her recognition was proof alone!

"My name is Eusine," the man said at last, fluttering his white cape. "I've always wanted to see Suicune up close. I've wished to see it running on the waves... But I haven't seen it around lately... Suicune is beautiful and grand. How it races through towns and roads at simply awesome speeds... I've decided." He held out a hand out to Lyra. "I want you to tell me everything you know about Suicune!" He helped pull her up.

Hearing Eusine's words as quiet, tuned-out static, Lyra scoured him with deep-set envy. _Such excellent fashion sense..._ she thought, verifying the parts of his outfit with her auto-targeting eyes_; Purple silk waist coat, matching trousers, ruffled high neck shirt, white gloves... cufflinks... stick pin...  
_

_NO, this cannot be! _Lyra thought, her face suddenly down-lit (revealing all its uber-realistic features in full contrast... somehow)._ This man... This man is... He is... _

_He is my FASHION RIVAL!_

"Well?" he inquired.

"ONLY ONE CAN BE SO POSH," Lyra spoke in defiance, shielding her cap with her hands. "I AM SUCH." But then she remembered Eusine's inquiries and felt obligated to respond. "Uh. Oh... Suicune was it? A girl in a yellow skullcap caught it. It's on her team now."

The man collapsed on his hands and knees, sinking into the sand in despair. "So it's no longer running free..." he lamented tragically. "What is the chilling autumn sky without its northern wind?"

"OH, I know this one." Lyra punched her palm. "A miserable little pile of secrets."

"Uhh..." Cameron scratched his head, unsure of where the conversation was heading (and unwilling to find out). "I've gotta get back to work. Later." He walked off.

"Hmh?" Lyra looked around. _Feels like I'm forgetting something..._ Lyra thought, Eusine weeping silently at her feet. Like a true man. "Ah! Wait—my money!" Lyra yelled after Cameron._ You forgot to pay me!_

* * *

Having successfully retrieved Amphy's medicine, Lyra held the pharmacy bag close and walked alongside Eusine, who had since followed her to discuss EVERYTHING about Suicune and Crystal. During this time, the sun had fallen through the horizon and Lyra had already told him all the outrageous lies required to set up her greatest scheme yet.

"Hn," Eusine emitted, folding his arms. "So if that's the case, then..."

"Yes," Lyra said, standing guiltlessly in her boldface lie. "I heard it myself. Crystal may be the unbeatable princess, deemed worthy by Suicune through trial, but Suicune will follow the one who manages to best her. This is Suicune's Secret Test of True Worthiness." She paused. "Patent pending."

"I see." Eusine nodded in determination, taking Lyra's words as absolute truth.

"But Crystal is a magnificent gem who will only appear once, and only under certain circumstances. I heard she'll be in Olivine City tomorrow afternoon," Lyra said; "In front of Glitter Lighthouse. You understand?" She raised her fists at him. "That's your chance to engage in battle and win Suicune's approval!"

"Yes." Eusine contemplated this positively. "At... At last!" He gazed out at the ocean. "My chance... Suicune!"

Lyra whacked him on the back. "Right! Good luck then! Gotta catch 'em all!"

"Right. Thank you for all your help." Eusine bowed. "Good-bye!" And at that, he briskly walked away. Lyra waved him off.

Quilava watched Lyra in confusion as she fished her pokegear out of a plastic sandwich bag (which had secured it prior their journey) and quickly dialed her childhood friend. Impatiently tapping her foot and listening to the line, she jolted when it picked up. "Ethan!" Lyra screamed into the mouthpiece.

"Yagh!" Ethan screamed in response, quickly settling down. "Wah! ...Lyra? Is that you?"

"Y-yes. I've got some BAD NEWS."

"W-what is it? What's wrong?" Ethan asked in alarm.

"An evil WIZARD is following Crystal around! You HAVE to save her. The world is in danger!"

"What?!"

"Let us meet tomorrow afternoon at Glitter Lighthouse! Don't be late, you're the only one we can count on!"

"Um, Lyra, ah—"

She hung up the phone.

Somewhere in New Bark Town, Ethan stared at his beeping pokegear in disarray. _What kind of phone call was that?_ he wondered. "First she made that weird prank call nights back and now this..." He panicked. "A wizard?!"

* * *

"Meet you at Glitter Lighthouse? Fine. I'll be there," Crystal said, hanging up on her end.

Lyra sank to her knees on the street, closing her pokegear and chuckling evilly. She leaned against someone's front door._ I've arranged for everyone to meet..._ she thought._ Yes, my plan is going along smoothly.  
_

"La vaa?" Quilava questioned, suspicious over what she was doing.

"UWAHAHAH," Lyra threw back her head and laughed wildly. "My plan intensifies! The plot thickens like your mother's stove top pudding! It's operation, 'Crystal's Cupid'!" She beheld the air with open hands, guffawing to a crescendo. "MWAHAHA! No one can ever stop me..."

Quilava shivered in apprehension. This would certainly not end well.

Without warning, the door behind Lyra opened, sending her crashing backwards.

"Ah-ah-AHHH!" a pokemaniac yelled, nearly fainting at the sight of the sprawled girl on his doorstep.

Lyra quickly stood up, rubbing the back of her head and then bowing repeatedly at him. "Sorry! Meant no harm!" she apologized. "Name's Lyra. I was just borrowing your doorway for a bit."

"Just don't steal it!" the pokemaniac sobbed, holding his face fearfully.

"What. Is up with the people around here?" Lyra questioned jerkily, as if she had ANY right to. In response, Quilava whipped his head back and flung snot everywhere.

"My... My name is Kirk. A Pokemanic," the man said, still shuddering but letting Lyra and Quilava inside anyway; "Sorry, but I'm still in shock! A guy about your age broke into my home recently. He had piercing eyes and long red hair and..."

Lyra tensed up._ Silver?_ she thought, lost in thought and missing MOST of what the Pokemaniac said.

"...I know it's my fault... Because I just love to brag about my rare and prized pokemon..." Kirk continued; "And everyone in Johto knows about them—"

Lyra sweated. _I know where this is going, _she realized. "—So that guy stole one of your precious pokemon?" she interrupted.

Kirk clasped his mouth momentarily and slung his hands about like a dork. "How did you KNOW?" he managed to say.

Lyra frowned and crossed her arms in a very business-like manner. "His name's Silver. You'd better be careful," she warned. "Because when he wants something, he'll stop at nothing to get it. He's... he's kinda HARD-CORE."

Kirk stopped wobbling about. "That sounds like a compliment."

"Wha? I'm just telling how it is!"

The Pokemaniac looked over his shoulder, teared up at the sight of the empty carpeted pet tower in the corner of the room (along with its adjacent scratching post and fuzzy springy ball), and he then slammed a pokeball on the dining table before her. "That kid. He took my precious house Sneasel... so now all I have left is my Shuckle," he revealed, sniffling without restraint. "What do I DO if he comes back?"

Lyra stared at him intensely. "You'll do battle!" She shook her fists, urging him.

"But I'm not strong... You though... You look strong!" Kirk spoke hopefully. "Could you look after Shuckie for me?"

"Wait, look after your pokemon?" Lyra hunched over and scratched her cheek. "Man. I thought you were going to request I get your Sneasel back or something impossible like that... Well! I don't think you should leave yourself defenseless, so you keep your pokemon here with you, right on your belt, at all times!" Lyra put a hand on the Pokemaniac's shoulder. "Also, for Silver... I'm his hated rival. And if anyone ever managed to steal from me, he'd be the one. So don't think I'm a safe bet."

"But he hasn't stolen anything from you YET, right?"

"Hmm... I guess not. But still... You need that pokemon, for when he comes back. FOR BATTLE." Lyra proceeded to grip the Pokemaniac by both shoulders. "Do you UNDERSTAND?" She squeezed with unending might. "You must train for that day! Avenge your house Sneasel!" She calmed her voice. "Or just breed your Shuckle with a Ditto and pawn the baby on the GTS for a new Sneasel... I dunno."

Pokemaniac Kirk squealed from the pressure inflicted by her hands. "Will do!"

And so, Quilava and Lyra left the Pokemaniac's house, her mind heavy with Silver's recent crime—at least until she caught sight of the city's gym and was merrily distracted.

* * *

Under night's cover, Silver scaled up the windmill pole and kicked himself off it, landing atop Lyra's house. Digging his nails into shingle after shingle, he pulled himself up and scurried across the roof._ I have to see her... _he thought to himself. So far, he had searched all the nearby cities for Lyra and all the routes and places in between. He had even looked around Cianwood City for a bit, but then fled when he got sidetracked and stole a pokemon. He couldn't help it!

_I need to see her..._ Silver thought; _To confirm that creepy gym leader's story about her. I need to know the truth. _Landing on the rail of the second-story's tiny balcony, he slunk across it and pressed his hands against the window frame and (unknowingly) peered into Lyra's room._ Nothing... No one's in there._ He scowled. Not willing to let his efforts go to waste, he pressed his palms against the glass and quickly rattled it, expertly jolting the lock up. With both hands still on the glass, he slid the window open.

Silver plopped down onto the floor inside—the thin, green window curtains brushing past his face. Lyra's sweet scent, lingering all around, alerted him of his location. "Must be her room," he whispered, adjusting his eyes under the moonlight. It was a sparsely decorated room, a loft with no door, and a dim light shone through from the downstairs. _Damn, _Silver realized, looking down at the open staircase; _Now I can't turn any lights on. Someone must be down there, so I have to be silent._ Going for Lyra's desk, he opened a drawer—and for a moment—wondered what he was even looking for. He immediately theorized a diary, or whatever it was that all girls documented their bizarre secrets in.

When he opened the first drawer, however, he found it brimming with junk: envelopes, a recorder, dubious disks, cables, glass jars overfilled with colorful jacks and cute decorative erasers. Sheets of pokemon stickers. Dismantled electronics and packs of pocket tissue. Screwdrivers. Hotel shampoos. Barbecue lighters. For Silver, it was like opening a space shuttle door to an alien landscape. _So this is... what a girl's junk drawer looks like... _He quickly closed it and sat in disturbed silence. Against his better judgment, he opened the drawer below it and discovered a stockpile of patterned and lacy fabrics. Some were folded, but some were not. Tiny garments. Some with straps.

His face turned red when he realized what they were._ Why the hell does she keep her underwear in her DESK?_ He slammed the drawer shut, holding his face in embarrassment._ She's so weird!_ Standing up, his elbow bumped a precariously stacked tower of CD and video game cases. To the floor they crashed, loudly, somehow bumping the button on her nearby Wii. It hummed, its disc player spinning.

_It's like she set this up on purpose..._ he considered, glaring at the console angrily.

"Lyra?" a woman's voice called out from downstairs.

Silver froze, his heart racing._ Is that... is that her mom?_ He clenched his fist. "Crap," he hissed, panicking like it was his first break-in all over again._ I... I have to use force... I can't let her turn me over to the police!_ He grabbed the handle of something metal from atop Lyra's desk, even though an intense hatred pressed inside him. A hatred for what he felt he had to do next._  
_

_~To Be Continued...~_


	22. She Has a Nice Mom

Light footsteps pounded up the stairs. Lyra's mother was fast approaching.

Shuddering in the dark, Silver rattled the mysterious metal object in his hand._ What am I doing? _he asked himself;_ What do I think I'm going to..._ He winced his eyes shut._ Idiot! Don't do this, not to Lyra... Not to her mother. _But in the end, he was the type of guy who endlessly broke laws, sought strength at all costs, ran for an uncertain future, and never showed mercy to those who got in his way. However, if it all came down to doing something as depraved as this, then...

Silver lowered the metal object in surrender. Opening his eyes, he faced his peril. The woman now stood at the top of the stairs, her figure outlined in the darkness of the downstairs' light. Switching the bedroom light on, she gasped. To Silver, she was an odd woman who looked about as ridiculous as her daughter—with looped bleach-brown hair offset by noticeable black roots and a red plastic hairband—and on her, a sleeveless yellow mini-dress that no one her age should be wearing. Regardless, her skin was flawless, save for a mole under her left eye, and she appeared as fit as a teen.

Silver instantly recognized who Lyra had inherited her pretty face from. This thought mortified him.

"Ah!" the woman exclaimed, pointing at him. For a moment, Silver almost expected her to yell out: 'Jerkface!' But instead, she clasped her hands together and said: "A wild pretty boy has appeared!" She then put her hands on her hips and laughed, a laugh that was clear and refreshing, and far different from Lyra's disturbingly manly laugh.

Silver widened his eyes in sheer disbelief._ I just broke into her daughter's room, _he reminded himself and recounted his steps: _Through the window. At night. Knocking her stuff all over the floor. And that's the first thing she has to say?_

"Oh? I see she sent you to water her tree," the woman said, nodding at Silver. "I guess she knows that Ethan and I tend to forget."

Silver stoically looked at the metal object in his hand.

It was a watering can.

_Either I was incredibly lucky,_ Silver thought, staring at the can's cute, flower-shaped spout. _...Or incredibly screwed_. He then forced an artificial, yet polite smile. It had been a long time since he'd done so.

"So what's your name?" the woman asked, closing the open bedroom window and motioning for him to join her downstairs.

"Silver," he found himself unwittingly answering._ Wait... no!_ he scolded himself; _Idiot! Don't tell her who you are! That'll just make it easier when she REPORTS you.  
_

"Ooh, Silver?" the woman gloated, a finger to her chin. "That's a mysterious name for a man..." Facing away, she laughed lowly to herself and led him down the stairs, all while compelling him to follow her.

A powerful blockage of distress swelled in Silver's heart as the woman led him to the kitchen sink.

She nodded. "Now go on," she said, closing her eyes and smiling.

Resentfully, Silver filled the watering can. _I can't believe I'm doing this, _he thought._ Lyra... Would you laugh at me if you knew this was happening?_

"You know what kind of tree that is upstairs?" the mom asked suddenly, busying herself with pulling a pan of brownies out of a small, countertop oven.

"No. What is it?" Silver responded coldly. He just couldn't give a crap about trees.

"Well..." The woman admitted: "I actually don't remember!"

Silver almost dropped the can. _They're both equally scatterbrained!_

"Oh wait, I think I do now... It's called a 'Weeping Fig'. Why am I telling you this? I guess it's some kind of literary symbolism!" Cutting the brownies as if she were stabbing someone, she dumped them onto a glass dish and hummed joyously.

Not understanding ONE WORD of what she'd said, Silver turned off the tap and narrowed his eyes. _She's definitely off her rocker, like Lyra, but I can't lower my guard around her. _He glanced around in paranoia. _I can't trust anyone! _"I see," he answered at last, walking for the stairs. "I'll be right back." This was a lie of course. He had already planned to escape out the window, just as soon as he was done watering that stupid tree. And so he did—to the effect of emptying the entirety of the heavy can on the pathetic tree and thoughtlessly over-flooding its soil (since he just wasn't in the habit of nurturing living things).

_There! _Silver thought, placing the empty can back onto Lyra's desk, and right beside her clunky, outdated old PC. He contemplated booting it up to snoop, but he dispelled the thought. He was done with this place! It was a mistake to have come here. Glancing back down the stairs, he crept towards Lyra's window and reached to slide it back open._ Now to escape..._

"Silver, are you done yet?" Lyra's mom yelled from downstairs.

_Crap... It's like she knows!_ He huffed. "Just a moment," he managed to reply, his anger and impatience exploding beneath his falsely calm veneer. No way did he want to be stuck here all night. Or worse. After all, he had to find Lyra so he could ask her—_  
_

"—You're so slow!" The mother appeared. Without any warning, she grabbed his arm and dragged him back downstairs.

_This pushy woman!_ Silver seethed.

"Come sit down and have some dessert. Then you can tell me all about yourself and Lyra."

_Don't mess with me! I'm not a 'nice guy'!_ Silver broiled with turbulent inner violence._ I'm your worst nightmare... I'll never go along with your plans! I'll defy you beyond all measure. You'll regret this.  
_

Seconds later, he found himself seated at the kitchen table with a plate of brownies. A large napkin was tied around his neck to protect him from messes.

"Do you like milk?" the woman asked, pouring herself some from a bottle. A fat Milktank leered at him from its label.

"Milk," Silver began unwittingly, "is good..."

The woman smirked as she filled his glass.

Cautiously, Silver glared down at his dessert._ Does it have poison in it?_ he asked himself; _Just what is she planning? She must know something... she must be up to something.  
_

At last, the woman dropped the bomb. "So," she began, sitting down and leaning over the table, "how did you meet Lyra?"

Sweating under pressure, Silver gripped his knees._ She's interrogating me!_ He was certain of it. "We..." Silver trailed off, staring down at the smooth and bumpy chocolate chip brownie before him. "Ran into each other one day." No way was he going to elaborate how LITERALLY they did—and especially not how he had shoved Lyra onto her back and all.

"Oooh?" The mother smiled insanely.

Silver gulped hard, even though he hadn't taken a bite yet._ I bet she already called the police, _he thought_, and she's just messing with me to buy some time until they arrive!_ In his mind, this HAD to be the case._ I wouldn't put it past her... If this woman is truly that girl's mother, there's no guessing what will happen. This could be my last meal.  
_

The woman bit into a brownie and nodded cheerfully. "Ahh," she sighed, clearing her mouth with a gulp of milk. "Ever since Lyra's been working as a trainer, I've been able to fully stock the kitchen for once. Though... it's terrible that she isn't around to enjoy it... but with her earnings, there will be more than enough food here when she finally comes home! Isn't she a good girl? Oh! And how she frets over me! She sends Ethan to check up on me every day. Did she tell you to do that, too?"

"No," Silver said, nerve-wracked beyond normal functioning. As such, he did the next best thing and stuffed his mouth full of brownie. _There's no_ _way, _he thought,_ that Lyra would entrust me with HER MOTHER. To Lyra, I'm not an 'Ethan.' I'm not a precious 'childhood friend.' I'm a 'rival' who could've been a 'partner'... but demoted himself to 'comrade.' But technically, I'm an enemy. Just because..._

Just because he was too weak to get closer._  
_

"Ahem." The woman cleared her throat, eager to get straight to the point: "So are you her boyfriend yet?"

Silver momentarily forgot how to chew. "Gh-hr-na–" he choked, reaching for his glass. _My expression is slipping..._ _Damn it!_ he cursed himself. _She'll see it and exploit it as a weakness!_

"Oh..." the mom answered with disappointment, carefully studying his face as if she'd seen something she fancied on it. "Well... You SHOULD be." She winked.

Silver set his glass back down—speechlessly—and stared down into his lap. His red bangs fell into his eyes, providing enough cover for him to retreat and rethink his battle plan._ She's definitely messing with me! My face is all red... look up... she'll get even more_ _suspicious_... Though he continuously reminded himself of this, nothing happened.

Silver was paralyzed!

"Hmm," the mom sighed sadly. "Grandchildren with red hair would be SO cute, too. But I'm sure you know how it is! I'm a little concerned over whether she's into boys or not... I've been hoping that it's just a phase, but whenever she calls me, she only talks about 'burning spirit' and 'epic battles' and I worry that she'll never know the joys of being a woman in full bloom!"

Resting his elbows on the table, Silver cupped his burning face with his hands. _THE SHAME, _he thought, the weight of the room forcing in on him. _You've got to be kidding... _It was outright torture.

"Oh? I'm sorry. Am I embarrassing you?"

_Obviously!_ Silver thought, suffering too much to answer._ How could you even __**allude**__ to something as frightening as me having children with that STUPID girl? It's like picturing the edge of outer space... it's like trying to imagine how pokemon eggs are made... It's INCONCEIVABLE._

Regardless, the woman's earnest words filled Silver with soft, euphoric feelings of victory. He figured it was nice—but entirely misguided—that Lyra's mom so firmly approved of him. Not that he wanted to be approved, or anything.

"I only hope that some day down the road," Lyra's mom said with a dreamy look in her eyes, "that she'll pour all that pyromaniac passion of hers into finding true love."

Silver scowled at a vision of Lyra setting some other guy's pokemon team on fire. _Not a chance! _he thought bitterly._ Lyra's got her hands full until I finally crush her in battle..._ No way would he allow her to slack off, and abandon their rivalry, for something as dumb as boyfriend-hunting. Not with him in the picture!

"Well enough about what I have to say! You've hardly said anything at all," the woman said at last; "So. What do you think about my lovely daughter?"

It was all leading up to this moment, and the moment before it could no longer be contained. Silver stood up from his chair and grasped the table.

* * *

"No... Not... yet...!" The gym leader yelled, stomping his bare feet like a sumo wrestler; "Poliwrath, tighten your focus! Summon the ferocity of the undefeated sea! Get ready to land a fatal fist!"

_Oh no! He's going to use another Focus Punch! _Lyra realized, peering up with flashing eyes. "Aerodactyl, tear the skies with your invincible might! Do the impossible! Roar through time!" she yelled, becoming enraged. "Thunder faaang!" Overhead, the dragon pokemon flew past, blasting the gym with his awesome battle cry.

"Noo!" the gym leader bellowed.

Aerodactyl latched onto Poliwrath with his dragon claws and dragged him down, then clamping down on his slimy, amphibious neck with a sharp bite._ "_**Z-ZWAAAP! SCHHH!_"_** sparks popped and sounded, exploding from his jaws.

"HYAAAAA!" Both Lyra and the man screamed at the top of their lungs, their souls resonating with an intense desire to win. "GYAAAAA!"

From high atop the gym's indoor waterfall, two resident trainers watched over, too stunned to move.

"Those two are... really dramatic," the first Black Belt slowly grumbled. "It's almost too intense to bear."

"It's like watching two Leader Chucks fighting," the other one stated, struggling to put his bumbling thoughts into words; "Only one is MUCH much tinier than the other. And... and not so hairy?"

"Err..." The first Black Belt wanted to argue that point, since something seemed faintly wrong about it, but he couldn't seem to fathom WHAT. Down below them, Chuck's last pokemon fell to the floor, fainted. The battle was over.

"Hmm..." Chuck mumbled. "I lost?"

Lyra clenched her teeth in suspense, waiting.

"How about that!" The gym leader laughed, after some moments of silent tension. "All right. You're worthy of the Storm Badge!" He dropped the fist-shaped pin into her excitedly-trembling hands. "With that, you're now licensed to fly with your pokemon to any city or town you've already been to! Here, take this, too!" He gave her a familiar disc device.

"Is this?" Lyra gasped, checking out the TM.

"You already know about Focus Punch, huh? It's Poliwhirl's signature attack!" Chuck roared: "Wahahah! Well I enjoyed battling you! But a loss is a loss! From now on, I'm going to train 24 hours a day!"

* * *

"...And that's how OBSTINATE and DEMENTED she is," Silver finished his rant, slamming his hands on the table. He panted lightly, as if he'd just unsaddled a great haul of anguish twisted by unhealthy interest.

For some reason, the family photo album was on the table between them. (The reason being Lyra's mom forced it on him.)

Lyra's mom smiled at the boy's frustrated outburst in sharp understanding._ If I didn't know any better, I'd actually think that he hates Lyra_, she thought;_ But it sounds like he also admires her... In a quirky, obsessed sort of way... _"Well!" she said with a huff. "You two sound very close."

"NO. We're not..." Silver snapped, standing up. "I... I need to leave." He was certain that all the sugar that she'd force-fed him was making him far too chatty. They'd already had a conversation about the nature of Lyra and the similarity she had with her father. Though Silver didn't mention the Magnet Train accident directly, her mother had made several comments about it, proving Morty's story correct. This was more than enough proof for him. As for the father's rumored bad business connections: Silver felt they were too foreign and business-y for him to worry about._  
_

"Wait!" The mom dove across the table, snatching his arm.

"Heh?" He emitted, stunned by her outreach.

"Lyra initially ran off without taking much with her," the mom explained, "and Ethan just left again tonight, so I wasn't able to ask him this small favor... Could you bring her a care package?"

Silver expression darkened._ NOT HAPPENING, LADY,_ he mentally refused; _I'm not bringing ANYTHING to her. You have no idea who I am... I am her fiercest rival! A deadly fighting machine! One who's sole purpose is to usurp power and bring CHAOS to the world. FOOL. I could snap at any moment and destroy you BOTH. _

Seconds later, Silver found himself holding a small, pink duffel bag. It went well with his purple pants.

_Her mom is psychologically screwing with me, I just know it..._ he thought and shivered systematically, his face devoid of any human emotion._ What a terrifying being. An unstoppable rival in her own respect... It feels like the fabric of time is caging me inside this very moment. It's like she's manipulating reality just to break my will to fight...  
_

"Oh yes, I almost forgot!" the mother said, scrunching up her mouth with weird repressed laughter. "I forgot to pack her feminine products! Be right back." She ran back upstairs, obviously doing this all intentionally.

"HOLD IT," Silver yelled, no longer voiceless to this degrading domestication._ Stupid! _he mentally berated her;_ take the bag with you! Stop TROLLING ME._ Building with rage, he nearly pitched the duffel at her head.

* * *

Excited about flying, Lyra prepared her newest HM device. Grasping its trailing earbuds, she hold them near Aerodactyl's ear canal and hit play. A voice hummed from the tiny, far off speakers.

"Poof!... Aerodactyl forgot Wing Attack," it assured them gently, "and learned Fly."

"HM02!" Lyra exclaimed, her eyes hardening to a serious degree, "What a soothing voice he has..." Looking out past the dark shore, she then remembered that there was medicine to deliver. As if negating her duty, her pokegear beeped at the hour and reminded her it that was now two in the morning. Now was no time to be flying!

"Daact," Aerodactyl yawned, snapping his jaws breathily where they stood. They were only steps outside Cianwood City's gym.

"Yra... Me too. I guess we should rest for a bit." Lyra yawned as well. _But not for too long... I have to hurry back to Olivine first thing in the morning, _she thought._ We must deliver the Secret Potion to Amphy and Jasmine and prepare for... The Operation!_

_~To Be Continued!~_

* * *

**This story was written in front of a live studio audience. **

**Review now!**


	23. Jump through the Roof

For Lyra, it was a memory from long ago: a piano melody playing from Crystal's window, one with a slowly creeping form and a deliberate limp. There wasn't much movement in it, but the repetition of two dissonant notes danced in between a gravely wandering tune, the two which seemed to constantly change itself. It was a bitter piece, almost a statement on the despair of lost dreams, their final release, and all those difficult-to-understand adult things in-between, all mixed together as they rose past the green rooftops and dissolved away. Maybe, as a monument across time, all those things became the green rooftops themselves. Those town rooftops, Lyra remembered, that she always stared up and over at.

Abruptly, discordantly—and maybe defiantly—the medley came to a stop and a harsh voice screamed out. Crystal yelled back_._ Despite the window's height and her short stature, Lyra strained her neck, trying to see what was happening within. _Yesterday,_ she thought,_ Crystal said that she couldn't play with us anymore._ As little Lyra wondered why, a young Ethan materialized behind her.

"Let's wrestle!" he said, throwing a fist up in the air.

Lyra moodily shook her head. "I want to play with Crystal," she said._  
_

"Then let's play..." Ethan jumped as he suggested it: "...'Save the Princess'!" It was yet another opportunity for him to try being the manly hero.

Then, in the next moment, Lyra found that'd she'd already agreed and that the two of them had mysteriously re-grown to their present age. They were also sitting inside their secret base between the trees and Elm's back fence, even though they'd long outgrew the space way back when they were ten. There was also plenty of room for them now. In fact, the space went on forever, its entire expanse a leafy backdrop like a painted wall.

"I'll be the knight that saves the princess," Ethan exclaimed, holding out his arms. "You can be the princess." He wildly waved them. "And then I can save you!"

"Save me?" Lyra wondered aloud in disappointment. "From what?" This game wasn't what she had expected. Shouldn't they both become knights and go save Crystal?

Ethan poked a stick at the mud, still baffled by her excellent question. "Maybe... save you from being tied to a tree?"

"No, to be the hero you must bring the bad guy to justice," Lyra said; "So. I'll be the bad guy AND the princess."

"No, Lyra!"

"Yes."

"NO."

"Why not?"

"That doesn't make sense!" Ethan threw a tantrum. "You can't be both good _and_ evil." They argued further, and before they knew it, they both had to go home.

Lyra sulked. Though Ethan was such a crybaby, he didn't care at all about Crystal being busy those days._ But maybe_, Lyra considered; _He was just trying to be strong..._

_Huh? _she wondered drowsily, rolling over. _Why is there sand in my mouth?_ "...Ehh... Ah." She opened her eyes._ That's right. _She saw the sizzling ocean in her vision._ It was all just a dream... __Ethan and I haven't played together in years. _She closed her eyes again._ I guess I quit and fell asleep here last night. Right in the center of Cianwood City._

With a heavy dragon tail, Aerodactyl continued thrashing sand near Lyra's face, dirtying the air and causing her to shoot up, coughing and spitting. "Aw stop," she gagged, shaking her head as Aerodactyl trilled and danced in a sassy manner (one better suited for a tiny bird pokemon). He had succeeded in waking her up.

_A warm afternoon sun,_ Lyra thought pleasantly;_ It's already this late, huh?_ She sat up and enjoyed its warmth, all until she finally remembered. Her soul, if it had a physical form, would've drifted straight out of her mouth right then. In fact, it DID. "We're... wuaauh—" she sucked in air to yell: "—LAAAAATE." Grabbing the horn on Aerodactyl's back, she yelled, "Pilder on, Mazin go, Mazin GO!" She put a foot up on his side, and, as he nodded, he held his wings sail-high and then jetted off the ground, pulling them into the sky before she could properly seat herself.

Dangling mid-air and barely hanging on—Lyra regretted her hasty command far TOO late. When her hand nearly tore away from Aerodactyl, her heart pulled up into her throat and she increased her grip. "Hyack," she gulped, holding down her flapping cap and eying the speeding ocean far below. With the wind ripping at every angle of her body, her hand slipped further from Aerodactyl's horn. She clung on tighter, but it felt like a losing battle. _No, I can't go on like this, _she thought dramatically, certain that death was imminent_, I wanted to meet with everyone again... To see everyone! Even...  
_

Even Jerkface.

"Huh?" Lyra reflected on this brief thought, one which had wandered into her mind._ No way... _Her face froze in disbelief._ To think about him,_ _and at a precious moment like this... Silver! His arrogant face and that annoying attitude. Impossible. It must be because... It must be because he was probably right! I'm at fault for getting into situations like these. _Her fingers slipped to the end._ But even if it's scary, I live for thrilling moments like these. And I'm slowly beginning to understand all the things I love in life, so... I'm not letting go yet!_ Hyperventilating, Lyra blinked. Her hand had finally slipped.

"Who am I!" she bellowed, deluded by her impending doom. In a gray blur, Aerodactyl swooped under and caught her feet with his back, saving her in time. Grabbing on and bracing forward, Lyra pressed against him and fought her balance, leaning and swinging to keep mounted.

Olivine City came up on the two quickly, and each billowing burst of its land-warmed wind threatened to throw Lyra off. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a blue haired dot standing motionlessly beneath the lighthouse, Crystal, and in the distance, Ethan and Eusine, slowly approaching.

"Hold it buddy, we're passing it, pull over!" Lyra yelled, receiving a mouthful of air for her backseat driving. Hugging Aerodactyl's shoulder blades, she changed his center of gravity with her weight and slung him off course from the pokecenter. "We're landing at the lighthouse instead!"_  
_

Down towards Glitter Lighthouse they dive-bombed—the wind whistling past Lyra's ear—and Aerodactyl's tail shaking out of control.

Noticing a whirling sound, Crystal snapped her head up.

With a mighty shout of, "SKY DRAGON WING SAIL LANDING!" Lyra lept off of Aerodactyl's back and plummeted several stories down to the ground. "**BAAANG!**" her landing sounded and pounded a dent in the grass, right in front of Crystal.

The girl genius screamed endlessly.

"...Crystal," Lyra said, painfully standing up and grabbing her. "Hurry... Give me ...my Dunsparce..."

"What is _wrong_ with YOU?" Crystal demanded, smacking Lyra repetitively. "Are you an alien? Are you a robot? Are you undead? Were you dropped on your HEAD too many times? WTH? I can't even... JFC, WTFIWWY? IDGY! SMH, ;ksjdhfjs;dkjfhkjs," The girl genius continued to scream trendy internet acronyms.

"Crystal, listen. Oof!" Lyra pleaded. _Now she's mad at me again!_ she thought in a panic. _There's no time, I have to get out of here... The plan's going to be ruined!_

"Anyway, that's NOT how you greet someone!" Crystal gasped for breath, handing Lyra the pokeball. "Unless you want to KILL them with a heart attack! ... Take the freakin' Dunsparce... You freak..."

"Thank you, Crystal." Lyra took the pokeball and held it close.

"I also got you this..." Crystal explained, handing her another pokeball.

"Huh?" Lyra took it.

"It's a Remoraid..." Crystal panted. "I ensured that it was French."

"Crystal..."

"Yeah?"

"I wanted an _Octillery_."

"Shut up and evolve it!" Crystal punched her. "I can't take this kind of stress!"

"I found you!" Eusine shouted from far away; "Skullcap Princess! I have come to battle for Suicune's trust!"

"What in the BLUE Bidoof_?_" Crystal wondered aloud. "Why does everyone keep calling me 'skullcap this' and 'skullcap that'?"

Lyra dashed inside the lighthouse.

"Wait, where are YOU going?" Crystal flung back around and roared at the closing door.

"Waah!" Ethan's distant voice carried; "It really _is_ an evil wizard!"

* * *

After taking the elevator up and delivering the medicine to Amphy and Jasmine, Lyra went out to the stone balcony and hung over it. It was the best seat in the whole tower for her marvelous scheme, for she could see Ethan and Crystal perfectly from there. Down below, the two stood defensively, bracing themselves behind a wall of water which had been summoned by Suicune.

"I see the battle is still going on," Lyra said to herself, springing around and sticking out her tongue. "It's about time," she said, cracking her knuckles, "for the plan!"

One more time, Lyra checked her plan's steps and details. She counted and remembered them all very carefully, like so:

_Step 1. From this vantage point, have Weepinbell drop Sleep Powder and put everyone to sleep._

_Step 2. Steal and wear Eusine's cape._

_Step 3. Drag Crystal and Ethan off somewhere safe._

_Step 4. Watch them—carefully—until they wake up._

_Step 5. Call and congratulate Ethan on saving Crystal—act like he forgot everything. Random amnesia!_

_Step 6. ? ? ?  
_

_Step 7. Romance!_

Step 6 was omitted because not even Lyra was sure of its intricacies.

Holding Weepinbell's pokeball, ready to throw it, Lyra stopped. _But the wind is really strong up_ _here,_ she realized, licking a finger and holding it to the heavens;_ Something tells me that... the sleep powder would just get blown away._ Also, it was a really screwed-up plan.

"Agh!" Lyra flailed he arms, stewing in self doubts and regrets. "I didn't calculate in wind speed and resistance... I'm such an idiot!"

"You got THAT right," a cold voice spat from behind her, catching her off guard.

"Hah, I know who that is!" Lyra spun around, her heart pounding in thought: _Why am I so relieved to see him now?_ "Jerkface!" She pointed at him rudely. Hi-lighting their sudden meeting, a warm zephyr blew past their faces, messing up their hair. What pretentious wind, as if the scene needed ANY more setting.

Pulling back his bangs in great irritation, Silver stared at his rival's startled face._ Back at that insufferable place, I did find my answer... It's true,_ he thought; _like me... Lyra lives in the shadow of a lost father. But why are we so different? There's me, disgruntled. And her, unhindered... How does she go about acting so invincible? And why does it annoy me? I still want to know. So I rushed here to see her again. _

"You again?" Silver began, shaking away that unsettling feeling he got whenever he saw her. "I'm sick of your face popping up like this. You really ARE like a mushroom. Even if I pull you up, you just appear in the same spot the very next day!"

"I'm NOT a mushroom," Lyra vehemently insisted, "and don't be taking pages from the Demon King's book!" Upon this statement, she wilted from a parasitic demonic aura. "When you call his name, he digs two graves... right before he ferries you to hell..."

"Book?" Silver questioned, confused by Lyra's abstruse metaphor.

"Oh hey," Lyra said distractedly, instantly appearing alongside him in order to investigate the small pink duffel on his arm. "What's with the man purse?" She stared. "Are you making a 'real men wear pink' statement?"

Though containing it silently, Silver overheated with rage—pure rage which smoldered under the confines of his tight purple jacket._ Never before,_ he thought, _Have I ever had THIS__ strong of an URGE to KILL someone..._ It was a murderous urge so strong, in destroyed itself out of shame and took on a quiet life of forced stoicism instead. Such were the pointless feelings she invoked in him!_  
_

"Whoa, I have a duffel at home that looks_ kinda _like that," Lyra continued, crouching close to examine it. "In fact, the similarity is quite uncanny..." She poked at it.

"This **IS** your duffel!" Silver screamed, snapping and throwing it in her face. _Why is there never a serious moment with her?...! __This is driving me insane!_

Lyra took the duffel and unzipped it. Too stunned to move—she sat with her mouth open. After some moments she managed to say, "This thieving of yours has gotten out of hand. Why, this bag contains everything but my junk drawer... I really needed THAT, too. But everything else..." She gave him a thumbs up anyway. "Good job." Apparently, she was impressed.

By his thievery.

Silver saw the contents of her bag and fought back a reddening face. "Yeah? I broke into your house and stole it. So what?" he bluffed. "The bag was on your bed. I thought it had something _valuable_ inside."

Lyra looked up in speechless astonishment.

"But it turned out to be a bunch of useless crap." He shrugged conceitedly and scoffed. "You can have it all back now, of course. You should even be honored that I returned it to you instead of tossing it in the trash."

Lyra stood up and approached him. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders, leaning in close to his face.

Silver choked when she placed her nose against his._ What is she going to do?..._ His heart pounded expectantly with speculations. Her lips were close—their lips were close. Was there any way she was going to reward him for his troubles? He fought back these stray ideas. No way did he honestly think it'd be rewarding. This was Lyra, after all. But he closed his eyes anyway.

"Rival," Lyra explained, "sometimes we do things that aren't right. Oftentimes, we keep doing it because we figure: 'What the heck! I already did it once, so what difference will it make if I do it again?'... This kind of thinking is flawed, but we all succumb."

Silver opened his eyes back up and narrowed them._ What?__  
_

"Other times, we do things that aren't right because we believe they ARE right. The path to our dreams doesn't yet exist so while forming it, we must drag our feet across someone else's roadway—kicking up the gravel they'd just poured and generally making a big mess," she continued.

_This speech, _Silver thought,_ is getting increasingly retarded!_

"I'm guilty of this as well, so I've thought of a solution to this dilemma!" Lyra said with a finalized nod. "This will hurt me as much as it hurts you." Leaning back, eyes to the sky, she took a deep breath and then, right after exhaling, threw her head forward and headbutted him. Right in the face. With hers.

Tumbling backwards, Silver grasped his skull—screaming vile curses at her since it was all he could do to ease the pain. _She hit me she hit me, _he thought over and over. _She hit me?!_

"Boink!" Lyra blurted, supplying a delayed sound effect. "And there you have it. My solution!"

"Are you CRAZY?" Silver finally blasted. _Perhaps,_ he thought,_ that was an unnecessary question..._

"Accept our shared destiny. It was only a matter of time!" Lyra rationalized brazenly, resting her hands on her sides. She seemed relatively unfazed by the collision of their skulls. But seeing how dense she was, it wasn't too surprising. She let out a superbly canned laugh.

"You just _hit_ me!" Silver yelled. "Stop acting so damn heroic about it!" His arms flew up and before he knew it, his hurt and disappointment started pouring out and he was raving out of control. "You! You! You're the embodiment of the stereotypical Johtoan!" He pointed at her ruthlessly. "Vulgar, alcoholic, brash, unsexy, _stupid_, and zubat-shit insane! The only thing you lack is the stupid-ass accent! I can't believe you're my rival. In fact, you're an embarrassment of a rival!" _So why, _he wondered to himself,_ do I like you so much?!_

Lyra pressed her fingers to her temples. "Come on, man... You're going to make me cry..." she sniffled.

Silver was instantly placated by the threat of her tears. "Don't you dare..." he threatened, since this was the only method-of-dealing ever taught to him by his former caregivers, "or else!" He became further distraught upon seeing that it only made her sniffling worse.

"It's ok," Lyra answered him and turned away defensively, "it's just allergies. And the embarrassment of a rival..." Her hands cradled her face in deep shame, and Silver now found himself concerned by the idea of that being the only insult to truly upset her.

Complicating their strained arguing even further, Leader Jasmine ran in on the scene—a recovered Amphy jumping by her side. "You're that boy... who said those horrible things about Amphy," Jasmine said, glaring at Silver. "Don't think I didn't see you step out of the elevator..." She clutched her fist tightly against her frilly, bow adorned chest. "Don't think we forgot... Ah, Lyra?" Jasmine spoke more delicately when she saw her. "We greatly appreciate all the trouble you've gone through. However, you should probably move along now... Because I'm afraid this boy here has to pay for his insults..."

Electric arcs sprung from Amphy's charging body and Silver slowly backed away.

"Uh. Right," Lyra said, pulling herself together and saluting Silver. "Watch out for hidden charges!" And at that, she ran for the balcony door. But, sadly, no pun goes unpunished; Suicune leapt right in front of Lyra, throwing back his trailing mane and blocking her path.

"And where do you think YOU'RE going?" Crystal demanded, sitting atop the legendary beast's back, Ethan hanging onto her from behind.

"Lyra!" Ethan yelled out as soon as she had noticed him. "Eusine mentioned how you'd sent him after Crystal. Why... why would you DO that? And is he... is he _really_ a wizard?" The last point was moot, but Ethan honestly wanted to know. Because he thought it was kinda cool.

"Uh. Yes," Lyra answered, and to both questions. Only after zoning out did she notice how Ethan was clinging tightly to Crystal's waist. "Su-success!" Lyra cried out, snapping her fingers. "This, this! It harkens images of the 'motorcycle-ride', the fabled seating arrangement that brings the love-interests close together... Uwahahaha!" She writhed in euphoria.

"What are you..." Crystal trailed off, baffled by Lyra's meta commentary. "Are you making FUN of me?!" Her teeth barred and she growled primitively.

"Na-no!" Lyra squeaked, backing away.

"Oh, Suicine!" Eusine called out, all before running in from behind and then diving to hug the blue beast's leg. "Thank you, Lyra!" he cried out. "At last, I'm finally able to see Suicune... Hold Suicune. Smell Suicune."

Eusine then jumped up and grandly threw off his magnificent white cape. "I am finally free of the burden of my obsession..." He sighed melodramatically, turning against the wind and running his hand through his slick blond hair.

Lyra ran and snagged his cape off the ground. She was one of those kids.

"H-hey," Eusine said to Lyra, "I wasn't getting rid of that yet."

She clutched the cape to her chest, possessively, intent on keeping it.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" a voice boomed, stealing away everyone's attention. A team of police officer's filed past the group and surrounded Lyra.

"Young lady! You're under arrest for breaking penal code two-thousand-eight-hundred, section two point eight: Flying in restricted airspace and landing in front of a non-pokecenter," the police officer barked. His right-hand partner readied a pair of handcuffs.

"NOOOOO," Lyra screamed bloody murder, running for the veranda's edge.

"Stop! STOP." The police officer panicked. "Don't jump!"

"Huh..." another officer murmured as he noticed Silver: "A kid with red hair, scary eyes... Ah! It's that punk thief with repeated offenses!"

"Arrest him as well!" the first officer said.

"Leave me alone!" Silver said and punted them as they fumbled to grab at him.

"Lyra, stop! I want an answer!" Crystal yelled.

Climbing atop the balcony's stone ledge, Lyra looked back. "An answer? Why do you want one of _those_?" She clapped her hands twice and yelled, "Yip yip!"

Silver stood still, finally restrained by the police officers. But out from nowhere, a warm wind rushed at them and blew off their official police caps, sending them all into a tizzy.

Eclipsing the sun with his massive wings, Aerodactyl dove down, stomping the balcony and roaring deafeningly.

Silver pummeled the eight officers edgewise and swiftly knocked them away. Groaning, dazed, the officers then reached into their blue jackets for their weapons. "Use force as necessary!" the first officer commanded. His men readied their batons.

Urgently, Silver glanced around for somewhere to run. Anywhere._ What do I do?_ he wondered; _Do I just keep kicking them down? Should I call out my pokemon? I'm trapped..._ Looking up, he then realized that Aerodactyl had snuck up beside him.

"Silver!" Lyra called, holding out her hand to him.

"I don't need your help," Silver asserted, slapping it away. _After I said all those mean things to you... I don't want you to be polite to me!_ He shook his head, flustered by confusion. _Treat me like how I deserve to be treated!_

"Jerkface, take my hand!" She shoved it at him. "Before I LEAVE you behind."

Letting go of his hesitations, half due to this provocation of his secret fear, and half due to an unaccountable thrill, Silver put his hand in Lyra's and gripped it, only to experience the true ferocity of her and Aerodactyl's strength. Up into the sky he was pulled—yelling from the depths of his lungs.

_~To Be Continued~_

* * *

**The Johtoan stereotype? The Kansai/Osakan Stereotype?**

**Moral Guardian Quilava says never run from the police or jump from very high places. Also, Silver said shit!  
**


	24. Lyra in the Sky with Silver

Silver's arm should have ached all over, being it was nearly dislocated—and the wind—threatening to knock him off, should have battered him cold. But he only felt a dazed warmth diffusing from his ears to his chest. Not even the distant ground preoccupied his thoughts, or even the clouds swarming past his head.

Only Lyra.

_When I'm with her,_ he realized, his face against her neck;_ I forget about everything._

He wasn't even aware of the fact that he was hyperventilating AND almost to tears. There was nothing but her, him, their ride, and the meaningless sky. Either this moment would last forever or end in a second.

It was the latter.

"Greetings," Lyra said from underneath him, patting his side a few times in comradely reassurance. "Are you getting enough oxygen?"

Aerodactyl trilled with interest at his passengers. During their haphazard scramble into the sky, Lyra had thrown Silver on top of her and thoughtlessly seated his waist smack between her legs. Verifying this with his eyes, the boy's mind drained away as he automatically surveyed the skin above her thigh-high stockings and even the area which ran deep into the shadows of her jean's inner legs. "Y-you," he gasped for breath, nearly losing himself in the folds of her short-shorts. "You idiot! Look at what you've done!" His voice rose to a scream. "There was NO need, I could've flown MYSELF. This is the WORST. I HATE THIS."

Troubled, Lyra covered her ears. "What... are you complaining about?" Her expression fell flat in bewilderment. "I'm the human crash pad here!"

"Tch." He looked away, his face red. "Weakling!" In the best of cases, Silver could pretend that all these little blunders of hers didn't matter to him—that they were _beneath_ him. (Ohohohoh.) But it was getting increasingly harder to do so, for all her moves were adding up, breaking his defenses, and agitating his heart beyond any understanding. When she was this close, he felt as if he were in the right place at long last. When she was in his grasp, he found himself deluded with the rewarding feelings of finally having won something. But what was there to possibly to win? This was no battle. At least, it wasn't the type he was used to.

"This... I've just realized something," Lyra choked-up, covering her face with shaking fingers. "He actually did it. The promised day has come." She garnered his full interest right before whispering: "Just as he swore, my rival is 'crushing' me!"

She then laughed herself to sobs.

Silver's face reddened further, particularly at this obvious mockery of his past declaration of hatred; she would never let him live it down. "HA HA," he huffed, resisting the impulse to grab and punish her. "Go ahead and laugh this time. But you'll know... when I crush you for real. Because when it happens." He scowled. "There won't be any laughs to be had."

This silenced Lyra for a moment, but then her eyes glazed over and she snorted, five times, before relapsing into unhindered snickering.

His death threat, it seemed, was about as effective as some silly noise one would make in the dark at a group sleepover. "You're intolerable," he muttered.

"Then," she said through her giddiness, "move?"

"BAH. I WOULD, but your wimpy pokemon is just too small. T-there's no where else for me to sit." Silver turned his nose up. "So you'll just have to deal with it!" _Not that this is a bad position,_ he added in thought, _or anything!_

"Ooh, I see," she crooned in amusement, temporarily startling him. "You're afraid of heights."

"Huh? I am NOT," he spat, relieved that she couldn't read his mind.

"All your yelling and screaming earlier said otherwise. Never figured!" She folded her arms, lying down. "A tough guy like you."

"Anyone would yell! Only an idiot wouldn't!" Silver spat, gathering up his nerve and scooting back towards Aerodactyl's tail.

Despite the boy's clear bid for space, Lyra pulled herself up at the same time and nearly bumped into him. Tipping back, though, she spun on her rear and latched onto Aerodactyl's handy shoulder horn instead. "Careful now, don't fall off," she warned him, hypocritically.

"Listen! I have no problems with heights," Silver repeated, worried that he sounded weak. "In fact, I climb high places daily!" He crossed his arms firmly. "I just don't trust _you_ or any pokemon."

"Why not?"

"Really... You can't figure that out? It's simple. In this world, you can only trust yourself. Every living thing thinks only of its own survival. Everything good is a lie made for someone else's gain." He paused to recollect his thoughts. "We... evolved like this... deceiving each other just to get what we want. That's why you can't depend on anyone. Or anything."

"Oh," Lyra muttered, unsure of how to respond. "That sounds scary."

"Don't brush off my statement like that!"

"No, you're right," she admitted reflectively. "Well, sort of. People always want things from others, but they'll seldom say what it is. It's advantageous to hide and complicate it. That's just how it is."

"...Even _you_ know the truth." Silver found himself laughing at her.

"But you're wrong about pokemon... They're different from humans. If they want to eat you, they will. And if they want to fight by your side—they will. It's clear and simple." She paused. "Or was it simple and clean?" She chortled like a nerd.

"All that sounds _just_ like humans to me."

"No, pokemon are much more honest." Lyra spun back around and frowned troublesomely at him. "So you should trust in them more. If you do, you and your team will become even stronger. Your thoughts will align and nothing will hold you back. You will become... the seventh teammate."

Chilled by the blasting wind right then, Silver drew his fingers into his sleeves and held his head down, mulling over her words. "Is that... what you do?" he wondered aloud. "You just trust them... and then they win as they should?"

"Heh." Lyra folded her arms once more. "That's right. Your doubts are your greatest enemy! They make you weak and compliant!" She stood up and faced the horizon. "But if you overcome this enemy, you'll become much stronger." She made two fists and rose them heavenward. "Like you, pokemon are born with these very same doubts... So, Rival!" She beheld him with a challenging gaze. "Abolish your enemies together!"

"YES. OK. Now sit down," Silver hissed, grabbing hold of her legs and cutting her hero-speech short. "You're going to fall off you massive idiot."

"Silver! Take hold of your fears." She punched the sky. "That's what every strong man should do." Silver forced her to sit back down.

For a moment, he considered pulling her into his lap. For SAFETY purposes, of course, but he quickly dispelled the idea. "Sometimes... you actually say some sensible things," he said, exhaling. "But of course it never makes any sense coming out of _your_ mouth." _Talking about what a man should do and such,_ he thought; _You're like a little girl or whatever! What experience do you have?! Or is this... the recycling of the codes passed to you by your father__?_

_Like the gang codes of conduct I too used to aspire to..._

_I couldn't imagine a person that parallels me better, _he then thought._ Both of us, caught up in our father's ideas. Ideas that I inevitably saw fail. Ideas about group allegiance, honor, and repayment. Notions that I ultimately dismissed as adult stupidity. But she... never saw such. Her father had reshaped the rules of thugs into righteous ideas to live by._ Recalling his visit to her house the night before, Silver focused his eyes on the distance. During that visit, her ridiculous mother just started bringing out pictures and telling him stories. And in those following moments, Lyra began to make a fraction of sense.

As a child, Lyra had been encouraged to be bold—matching colors and garments that should never be matched. Silver laughed vainly at the pictures displaying her natural incompetence. It became uncomfortable, however, when he saw her father. He was a foreign man with shock white hair, reserved muscle, and a penchant for leather chokers and thug faces. In every single picture he was practically shirtless—save for the occasional ill-fittingly tight red shirt or white bandage wrapped around his chest. Regardless the situation, he had the same beat-up blue longcoat on. This man, Silver knew, would've blended in well with all the criminals he saw around as a child. And that was immeasurably messed-up. In regards to this man, Lyra's mother explained how he'd spend days instilling the codes of gang lords in his daughter. The human spirit, family, honor, justice, and techniques of the trade. Then, when there were breaks from these lessons, there was music and self-expression in the form of terrible fashion, all documented by photos. Photos of happier times.

Silver remembered sitting at her kitchen table, listlessly, when the photo album ended halfway. There were no more pictures—none had been taken in the past three years. It was as if Lyra's life had suddenly ended. There were no more strange images of Lyra buried up to her neck in dirt, or lifting buckets, or burdening her mother with random fires, nor of her sitting on the roof with her father. There was only Silver's half-eaten brownie on a plate beside it and an empty glass of Moomoo milk. Both, the yield of her earnings, were the only physical proof of her recent adventures._  
_

"Hey," Lyra muttered, still dwelling on Silver's insult. "When one reads the return address and opens the letter—the letter is left unopened."

Silver tried wrapping his head around this nonsensical statement, and why she even said it, but his curiosity outweighed his puzzlement. "Could you tell me where the hell we're going?" he said, believing there wasn't an answer anyway. For either.

"Quit worrying. We'll go... wherever you want to go. I'll take you there." Lyra offered. "But of course it has to be somewhere I've been before... And I can't fly off legal routes anymore because of what had happened..." She laughed nervously, holding her head with one hand and Aerodactyl with the other.

"That's right... You're the reason why the police swarmed us," Silver said, "Ha! Nice going, _genius. _Typical of an amateur who just learned to fly... Did you think nothing would happen, landing like that?" He watched the back of Lyra's head, anticipating an enraged response. But he was disappointed when she didn't even sigh.

_Hmph. I guess she's not listening,_ Silver thought;_ Come to think of it, my insults have been rolling right off of her lately. It's like she's gotten more serious._ He pushed his nose into the back of her puffy white cap. It was surprisingly plush.

"W...what are you doing?" Lyra demanded.

He blithely ignored her._ She changed a bit after that creepy gym leader held her up in Dark Cave or whatever... What exactly did he do to her in there? _As soon as he wondered this, he found himself exceedingly unsettled._  
_

"That's MY cap! It's NOT a pillow," Lyra finally snapped, "I wear it for fashion! I wear it for myself! And contrary to popular belief, I DON'T wear it so that weird guys may nap on it!"

Irked by her suggestive statement, Silver threaded his arms under hers and held her in a double shoulder lock. "WHAT weird guys?" he demanded, not letting go until he got some info.

Lyra tried budging, unsuccessfully—and clicked her tongue in annoyance. "So obnoxious!" She tensed her shoulders. "You... for starters."

"Who else?"

"JERKFACE, my humor is spent." Lyra got serious. "Do you enjoy ticking me off?"

"Humph. Wouldn't you like to know?" He found himself, preposterously enough, smiling. "Of course I do. It's fun." He loosened his hold.

Lyra slowly looked back at him—her face devoid of life. "I see... is that so..." she mumbled to herself. "Then according to the Demon King, you're a sadist..."

Silver blanched at this statement. "Demon King?" he stammered. "You mean Morty?"

Upon hearing the man's name, Lyra turned blue and foamed at the mouth—as if she were truly being cursed by its mere utterance.

"And also—" Silver froze. "—Wait. Sadist? Just. WHAT did that sick bastard TEACH you?" He violently shook her. "That monster! Did he do anything strange to you?! ANSWER ME. DON'T go having a seizure on ME—"

"—BLEEEEGH." Lyra wobbled and turned green. "Strange... Other than... the ice cream diet he put me on? OR the unexplained nightcore music?"

Riled by this fiendish monopolization of his rival, Silver grabbed and embraced Lyra from behind—pulling her back close against his chest.

Color returned to Lyra's face and her eyes widened in childish astonishment. "Eh?" she emitted, feeling that his arms were different this time. They felt gentler than the ones that had pinned her in the Dance Theater's storeroom, yet at the same time, more intense._ Somehow..._ she thought in alarm;_ I don't hate it...  
_

Silver brushed his mouth against her ear and whispered directly into it; he did this so that she'd take him seriously for once: "Hey... Don't be hanging around any more guys," he threatened. "Or I won't forgive you."

Caught between the heat of his breath, his chest, and his words—a burning sensation spread across Lyra's nose and cheeks. She gulped away the urge to obediently fall backwards into his arms, and at once, she childishly scorned it. "Wha... what's that got to do with ANYTHING?" she bellowed, shaking him off and killing the intimate mood. "STUUU-PID."

"Sa-stupid?" he stuttered, flustered by this outright rejection. "YOU'RE the stupid one!"

"And you—" she exclaimed, crawling forward, "—are The JERKFACE." This won the argument by default.

"W... whatever." Silver glared at her. "Says you! Idiot... What are you even doing up there?"

Lyra had climbed all the way up Aerodactyl's neck. She clung there tightly. Stubbornly. "Getting away from you!" she said. Aerodactyl trilled and sweated in distress. He was having problems handling this new weight distribution!

Silver couldn't help but sneer at her offensive behavior. "Crazy roughneck..."

"Roughneck, HNN? You still hating on my Johto heritage?" She glared back at him. "Ha! Typical Kanto folk. Stuck-up... Lifeless!"

"Y-yeah? I'm from Kanto," Silver answered, surprised she could tell. "Humph! And of course you noticed it. I'm smarter and more civilized than the guys you're used to."

Lyra guffawed at him once again, causing him yet more shame.

_Kanto. __I traveled so far..._ Silver thought, forcing his awkwardness away; _What if... I told her about everything? About where I came from? Why I left? _Opening his mouth to speak, Silver stopped. He didn't want to say anything now, but having began, he had to say something. "You," he began abruptly. "Y... What do you think matters more in a team?" He paused. "Talent, or numbers? In terms of strength. I guess I mean... Quantity or quality..." He reflected on how this actually related to him. "Which do you think is better?"

"Ah... What a weird question," Lyra said, thinking. "Probably... Quality. Because talent is more important." She looked over her shoulder at Silver and puffed out her cheeks—scrutinizing him with her determined eyes. It reminded him of the time they first met. "Why?" she demanded skeptically. "You're not contemplating on filling your team up with Magikarp, are you?"

"N...no!" he spat, angered that she could even IMPLY such a thing. "I meant in a terms of people. TEAMS of people... It's wrong to think that strength lies in numbers, right?"

"Strength lies in numbers... for ordinary things." Lyra said; "Like revolutions, voting, or filling up stadiums."

"Of course. For ordinary things." He scoffed.

"...A stadium full of voting Magikarp would be a strength." She considered; "It could bring about a whole new revolution."

"THIS. Is it. I'm getting SICK of your non sequitur," Silver snapped. "So drop me off at the next stop. This went horrible ten minutes ago..." He felt betrayed by her so-called seriousness—thoroughly embittered. Whenever he tried having a meaningful conversation with her, she only delivered stupid punch lines. He knew he was an imbecile for trying to make this work. Why did he bother?

Lyra's shoulders sank. "Sorry. Did you think I was being insincere?" she asked. "I wasn't. I just do logic a little differently from you, is all..."

"Trying to say you're special? Right... maybe in the head."

Lyra's pokegear went off, and with a outstretched arm, she tried grabbing it—unsuccessfully. It hung just beyond her reach, right off on the side of her bag. She kept batting at it, struggling to grab that or the bag strap looped around Aerodactyl's shoulder horn. But it was a wasted effort. She needed to slide back down to get it, a move she still cautiously refused.

As he watched her futile movements, it dawned upon Silver in a flash of understanding. This, he realized, was the way Lyra protected herself in each and every situation which got too serious: by creating an imagined distance between her and others.

This was her weakness. Her true pathetic weakness.

She continue batting at her phone.

_But still..._ Silver thought to himself, continuing to watch;_ It's kind of adorable... _At this thought, he held his forehead in disbelief. Maybe the altitude was scrambling his brain.

"I can't—I can't reach it," Lyra said, her desperation beating out her pride. "Could you... get that?"

Undoing the pokegear, Silver flipped it open and held it to his ear. "Um, hello? Lyra?" a man's voice sung out; "It's your pal, Irwiiiin!"

Silver pulled the phone away in disgust. _So loud!_ he thought; _This is that juggler again, isn't it?_

"Hey, I heard about you!" Irwin went on. "You saved that pokemon at the lighthouse, didn't you?"

"Keh!" Silver buckled over in sheer disgust. _How did he learn about that already?_ He gritted his teeth when he deliberated the possibility that this man was stalking Lyra.

"Lyra, I wish you'd come see me when I'm sick," Irwin cried, "in bed...!"

Pulling the pokegear away, Silver chucked it—as far as he could.

"Ha?" Lyra uttered, watching it fly through the clouds and disappear. She stood up against gravity and tore at her cap—the dread of her lost prepaid phone plan encompassing her face. "BOY, WHAT WAS THAT FOOOOR?" she yelled.

"IT WAS STUPID," he yelled back. "SO I THREW IT."

* * *

After stopping to retrieve her pokegear, Lyra had thrown Silver off in order to search and give him a short but poignant speech about bimonthly activation fees and rollover minutes. Then she found her pokegear and offered him one last word. Then she put on Eusine's cape and left.

Silver watched as the tiny girl flew away on her monstrous rock dragon, her white cape fluttering in her ascent. "Your damn pokegear was fine!" he shouted at her. He couldn't believe it._ Handling me like that..._ Irritated, he kicked a rock through the dirt._ If I ever find that juggler, I'm going to break his neck!_ he swore to himself, right before his new surroundings distracted him. _Hm. Where the heck am I, anyhow?_ He saw a cave ahead, but that was his only clue. His concentration broke when he heard two boy conversing behind him.

"Whoa-wow. Is that a badge?" the youngest boy said.

"That's right," the older replied. "I just won it from Jasmine."

"A-mazing."

"Not really. She wasn't tough AT ALL."

Silver spun around and eyed his newest victim. It was some vapid Ace Trainer who was bragging to some Bug Catcher. They didn't appear to be friends or anything, but if they were, Silver figured they weren't too close-knit. He schemed._ They just battled on the road then, huh?_ he thought;_ Perfect..._

Finally noticing Silver's self-assured leer, the Ace Trainer glared back. "What are YOU looking at?" the boy called him out.

"At a wimp... with dumb hair," Silver admitted, turning his head to spit; "Seriously. It looks like a munchlax dipped in crap."

"Why you!" the Ace Trainer erupted, pulling out a pokeball. "I work very hard on my hair! I wake up early every morning just to meticulously spike it! With the best hair gel! Grrr... Just for that, I'm going to teach you some manners!"

"What? You?" Silver turned his head to chuckle. "Am I supposed to be worried? Not a chance. I've never lost a battle... because weak people like you are everywhere. It's pathetic."

"Then..." the now-nervous Ace Trainer replied, unable to brag the same. "Let this be your first loss!"

"How boring." Silver closed his eyes for a moment. "Different names, but all your faces are the same. You all blur together."

"Shut up!"

"So let's make this battle memorable then, shall we?" Silver pulled out a leather billfold and flipped it open, revealing his five badges. "I bet all _these_ that you'll lose. Miserably."

"And I bet all mine that I'll beat you into submission!" The Ace Trainer clenched his teeth, pulling out his own badge case.

"W-wait, don't do that!" the Bug Catcher advised, holding him back. "It's a bad idea!"

"Your weak little friend has a point," Silver said, leaning back.

"Conceited prick!" The Ace Trainer trembled in outrage. "Think you've already won, huh?"

Silver shrugged smugly._ I have, _he thought;_ Because I've already decided... The only one I'll ever lose to... is my rival!  
_

~To be Continued...~

* * *

**Special thanks to cross-over-lover232 for the pink duffel subplot idea.**

**And now, a sweet HGSS fan opening for no reason!:**

**COPY/PASTE and remove asterisks ***

**www.*youtube.*com/watch?*v=bwS-eGBQyeg**


	25. Join the Club

"Razor Leaf!" the Ace Trainer yelled, sending his Ivysaur rushing into battle.

"Ice fang," Silver said, his Croconaw outclassing his foe in level and speed. With vicious jaws, Croconaw ripped into Ivysaur, shooting crackling ice across the pokemon's green foliage and felling him instantly. "A team full of Kanto starters?" Silver laughed. "What?... Do you have a Pikachu in there, too?"

"Arrogant little...!" the Ace Trainer hissed with outrage, mumbling as he decided which pokeball to bring out next.

Silver carefully plotted as he chose his next pokemon._ Gastly's evolutionary line is unusually fast, right? _he thought;_ Yes, Lyra said something like that..._ He glanced down at Croconaw._ It's strange_. _No matter what, I can't seem to forget the things she tells me. Her beliefs about strength and... trust. She said I only have to trust, but__ I'm still unsure about what to do. _Circling back to her words, Silver recalled their parting minutes before. When he had asked her about the things she'd claimed earlier, she had given him yet another senseless answer—an answer that only continued to baffle him even now.

_"You're lucky this still works,"_ Lyra had said, her scuffed pokegear in hand. _"Really lucky. Any last words?"_

While he had watched her feel around in the grass, looking for that unimportant phone, a single question rattled his thoughts. _"How does one even trust something?_" he had asked. _"If it's a feeling... what is it?"_

_"Is your head broken?"_ She dusted off her pokegear. _"Next you'll be asking me what breathing feels like! I know you're sharper than that, Rival."_

Silver found her answer infuriating and pretentious. If she knew so much, then why couldn't she just tell him? _"If it's so simple, then why can't you just explain it with one sentence? Is that beyond your ability? Or are you just giving me random stupid advice with no meaning?"_

At this, Lyra grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket. _"Look back, way behind yourself... Inside the you from before the you you are now! And tell me, Rival! When was the last time you ever felt happy,"_ she had asked, _"around the person you looked up to?"_

Silver flinched, grabbed by both her words and her grip. It was one last bit of warmth from her.

The last time he was happy was when...

His thoughts returned to the present. _Was she even aware of what I was thinking__? _he wondered._ Because that probable time, I think, was right then, or maybe several minutes before then. No... wrong! _Admitting it to himself again only made it worse._ Why do I think about stupid things with her? I almost confessed to her right then and there... But there's no way my answer would have been right. I'm sure. Even more, there's no way she was even waiting for my response. She maybe... wanted me to search my own memories. To find the answer. From the me I was... before the me I am now._

Silver's knees still burned from the tumble after Lyra had thrown him to the ground, right before she straddled Aerodactyl and took off again. _Dirt kicked up into my eyes as she flew off. Abandoning me. _

_I really... hate her._

_And how every person—in this way—leaves me behind._

"D-damn it!" the Ace Trainer bellowed, breaking Silver's thoughts. "You shut up about this! No laughing, okay?" Biting his lip, the trainer threw down his last pokeball.

A fat, yellow blob popped out. "Pika-chu?" he asked, flicking its big ears.

Silver closed his eyes and threw back his head, gritting his teeth to keep himself from laughing. "I had you pegged," he managed out. "Another Champion Red wannabe. Must be hard to break the mold!"

"Am NOT!" The Ace Trainer stomped. "And I said shut up!"

"Whatever." Silver stopped smirking and frowned. "You're all so predictable... At least TRY to give me a good distraction... Other trainers are painful stereotypes." Recalling Croconaw, he sent out Haunter. _You're so obvious, I already knew you had a Pikachu,_ he thought._ And I already knew you'd send it at Croconaw once your Ivysaur failed. And before all, I knew Haunter was faster than your Pikachu before you even knew that you were losing! All of you, you faceless trainers who litter this pointless landscape... You leave nothing to the imagination! And it leaves me with way too much time to ponder crazier things... Things I want to take my mind off of!_

"Pikachu!" the Ace Trainer cried. "Thunderbolt!"

"You," Silver said, glancing sidelong at Haunter; "Shadow Ball." Looking back at Silver, Haunter smiled with gusto and then tightened his fists, all before facing the enemy with gleaming expectations. Caught off-guard by this familiar expression, a small memory flitted into Silver's eyes and he saw his past self reflected in the ghost. It was Silver's memory, of his father's hand reaching out and patting his younger self on the head. _"As expected,"_ the man had said,_ "you did well."_

Silver gulped, not sure what this memory meant—or the glowing, shiny feelings involved. _Even though he turned his back on me, and never looked twice at me, I always strove for that praise he gave once. His trust. _That was all Silver wanted and probably ever needed from that selfish old man. _That was... the last instance of my past happiness._

The foe's Pikachu rolled, shrieking and begging for the end as Haunter's dark energy blast bore down on him. Before his startled trainer's eyes, the Pikachu gasped and fainted.

Now knowing what Lyra meant, but shaken by his own recollection, Silver reached a hand out to Haunter but stopped midway. Touching a ghost pokemon was never pleasant. Too much shivering involved. "Good... good job," Silver admitted awkwardly, unable to emulate his father's cool words. _  
_

For a brief second, Haunter closed his eyes and a pink glow spread across his transparent cheeks.

Silver almost gagged._ How can something so lifeless look so happy?_ he wondered, stricken speechless._ A creature that follows you so blindly?_ But if praise made strength, he'd gladly use it. Anything to win.

"You're our last hope!" the Ace Trainer called out his next pokemon: "Lapras, go!"

Silver had selected Magnemite before the foe was even ready. "Magnemite, Thunder wave!" Silver said. "I trust you can win... no matter what. This is why you're here!" Magnemite, who was regularly half-hearted in battle, sparked brilliantly for once and faced the enemy with sharp eyes and a fiercely-grinding sine-wave cry.

_Somehow, it's working, _Silver thought,_ and all because of some meaningless words... Empty flattery. Battle cries. A tool for winning... _Now, he almost pitied Lyra for allowing him to emulate her success. "Make short work of him. Thundershock!" Silver said, complacent with his new ability.

Flailing from the flashing shock waves, Lapras collapsed on his side and Magnemite hovered over him, still buzzing with a new sense of pride and determination.

"No..." The Ace Trainer fell to his knees, the wager of their bet hanging over him. "Impossible..."

"Imagine that! You lost," Silver said matter-of-factly. "This means your badges are mine."

The Ace Trainer planted his face into the ground and choked pitifully.

"Humph. Are you going to cry?" Silver asked, cold to this emotional display; "How amusing. Go ahead, I never get sick of seeing this scene. Just like so many before you—"

"—That's enough..." the Bug Catcher said, standing up to Silver; "You may have won the bet, but you're taking it too far. That's just cruel... He has hopes and dreams, too. You're a jerk, but... neither of us would've said such hurtful things to you!"

Silver observed this trainer: he was no taller than his straw hat was wide, a tiny boy who could barely even lift his giant bug net. What was he even trying to do? Was he attempting to defend a guy twice his size?_ How comical!_ It took Silver everything he had to keep from laughing. "What a good little citizen you are," Silver said, upturning his nose to them. "Reminding me that I'm, _regretfully_, still human." He then shot a scowl at the Ace Trainer. "Hand over your badges, loser."

The badge case was obediently shoved into Silver's hand.

"It's amazing how you won these when you're SO weak," Silver remarked, glancing into the case. "Tch. You must've had luck on your side, and of course you tried your very hardest... Shame. I almost want to show you mercy... but I know it would only hurt your miserable pride." He selected the Mineral Badge from its collection and tucked it into his leather billfold. It was the only badge he needed. All the others were useless repeats. He huffed in relief. Now he didn't have to make the trip back to Olivine City—which he had been dreading for various reasons. Mostly Jasmine.

"Shut up! You don't know me!" the Ace Trainer spat back in defiance. "So cocky... I could easily beat you up! But I'm a man of my word. Don't go thinking you're better than me!"

The Bug Catcher clenched his fists and glared up at Silver.

Silver had to admit this was very entertaining. "Is that so?" he asked. "Then how about one last round to make things interesting?" He smacked the newly-won badge case closed and twirled it in-hand. "A test of character... Since _these_ are mine now, I can do whatever I want with them. Isn't that right?" With a step forward, he leaned over the Bug Catcher and pushed the badge case at him. "Of course... So I've just decided. I'll give these badges to this kid. Now _he_ can do whatever he wants with them! Think about that." Silver simpered as the child took the case. "For once in your life, you own so many badges... And what's this?" He glared into the wavering Bug Catcher's glassy, soul-searching pupils. "You have absolutely no obligation to give them back to that guy! Well. How about that?"

The Ace Trainer watched fiercely as the Bug Catcher held the case in his tiny, trembling hands.

"Is that hesitation I see?" Silver asked. "Or do you understand now?"

The Bug Catcher clutched the badge case close to his chest, unwilling to let go.

"Y-you're just going to listen to him?" the Ace Trainer stammered, bewildered by this betrayal. "You're not going to give them back to me?"

The Bug Catcher turned. Any friendliness between the two had vanished alongside the roadside dust.

_I couldn't have planned this any better, _Silver thought._This truly is... the selfishness of ambition_. This is what drives us forward and apart! _Affectionate words are just decoration for our self-serving actions. We're never safe from each other. Only fools refuse to own up to this.  
_

"Always remember this feeling." Silver's mouth twisted into a smile. "That'll be all, wimps." He walked off, continuing on his way to Mt. Mortar for the rest of the noon.

Traversing the cavern nonstop for most of the evening, Silver stopped for a breather. Eyeing the echoing, night-black expanse above, he pulled and straightened the bottom of his jacket and continued on._ Mt. Mortar, hm? This isn't so tough,_ he thought;_ I've heard so many bad stories about this cave that I figured it'd be some kind of death trap. But of course, I'm breezing right on through... Nothing big EVER lives up to its hype. _

In truth, Silver had been wandering around in circles for the past four hours. And he was totally lost. Not that he'd ever recognize it.

_This is probably the way out right now! _Silver thought, grasping a high ladder and climbing up through a vertical tunnel. With each step he took, the sound of rushing water became clearer and louder._ There's no daylight ahead... Strange. I could've sworn this was an exit... Humph. I'd better not be going deeper into this stupid cave._

When Silver climbed out from the tunnel, however, his fear was confirmed. He found himself high atop a cliff—and directly in a spot from which he could see all the places he'd been. But despite this, he still had NO idea where he was! The cave's monstrous waterfall roared beside him, hypnotically drowning out this frustration. Far below, an exit leading to daylight peeked out from among speck-sized boulders. It would take a steep, one kilometer jump past an escarpment of brutally sharp rocks to reach it like this. Silver considered that Lyra would likely jump such a gap, but he was still hesitant. Luckily, he noticed a stairway leading halfway down._ It appears I can walk further... Perfect, _he thought;_ This will greatly reduce the jumping distance. I think I just might make it..._ He stopped despite his desperation to leave._ So if I jump at the bottom here, I'll—_

"—Die," a deep voice said, elaborating on Silver's thought; "A painful, blood-entrenched death... splattered amongst the skin-grated stones below... Brains everywhere. Hoi. I saw it."

Silver nearly jumped off in terror, but steeled himself in order to locate the voice's source. At the base of the stairway's cliff sat a familiar, blond young man.

"Creepy Idiot Gym Leader!" Silver called, recognizing him.

"Yes, but I think 'Demon King' sounds more poetic," Morty admitted, licking a plastic spoon. "Or Master."

It didn't take long for Silver to realize that there was yet another strange blond man nearby. It was a red-caped Juggler, humming happily to himself while flipping through a red and white binder.

_A Juggler? _Silver thought;_ Is that. Could it... Nah. It couldn't be. _Silver scoffed, focusing his attention back on Morty, who was ferociously digging at something drippy with his plastic spoon. He was eating. Out of a commercial-sized bucket. Of premium diary ice cream.

"What the hell is THAT?!" Silver blasted, pointing at him.

"Mint and chip," Morty said, slapping the bucket and feasting upon yet another spoonful.

"I wasn't asking about the FLAVOR, bucket-face! It was a rhetorical question! What I meant was, what kind of grown man allows himself to eat such a buttload of sugar in the middle of such a huge ass CAVE?!"

"For a shrimp, you sure can vocalize," Morty said before adding, "and that's just how I roll. If you've got a problem with it, go jump off a cliff."

"No way, you just said I would DIE."

"Ah!" the Juggler exclaimed, finally glancing up at Silver; "You sound sort of familiar. Like... I've talked to you before!"

"Oh God." Silver face-palmed. _That sickening voice__._ Silver recognized it immediately. _So he IS that Juggler... The one who's been stalking Lyra!_ Silver cracked his knuckles and looked upon his prey murderously._ This means one thing. It's neck breaking time._

"Oy, shrimp... I'm trying to enjoy my ice cream here," Morty intoned, staring at Silver with unwavering, death-defying eyes; "So if you dare kill the president... you'll be predestined to a certain fate... and I'll personally escort you down this cliff... to the other side of... HELL."

"Don't you understand anything?" Silver retorted, sweat beading upon his forehead. "Stuffing your face with sweets while pulling faces... Even if you use a menacing voice, you're not scary at all... HA." He felt his knees wobble. "You might as well be making death threats while sitting on a rainbow!"

"Hello, my name's Irwiiiiin!" the Juggler greeted, his arms outstretched. "What's yours, young trainer?"

"SHUT UP," Silver snapped. "Irwin! Wait... _President_?" He did a double-take.

"Irwin's the president," Morty explained, pointing a spoon at him.

"That I am!" Irwin said.

"Of what? Silph Co.?" Silver guessed, waiting a beat before adding explosively, "The whole damn UNOVA REGION?"

"Tch. You seriously need to calm down," Morty said, stuffing his face and gulping before speaking again. "It's no wonder she threw you off... If you did that to MY pokegear—no, my ice cream—I'd drop you off this cliff here." He pointed to it with his spoon.

"Stop alluding to that cliff and answer my god-damned question!" Silver yelled, stamping his feet. "And stay out of my head!"

"Right right... Irwin is The Founding President of The Lyra Fan Club," Morty said, inching over to pat the cheery Juggler on the head.

"Lyra... Lyra Fan Club?" Silver managed out, the revelation nearly bowling him over. "What. The... Huh." Morty's answer may have explained one thing, but it didn't explain why they were having an ice cream social in the middle of Mt. Mortar. "Wh-what are you even DOING here?"_  
_

"I had an ominous vision concerning Lyra..." Morty explained, placing his ice cream bucket down in a moment of grave seriousness. "Somehow, her destiny has changed... So I'm hurrying to the destination... where she will appear next."

"W...what's going on?" Silver asked. "Is something bad going to happen to her?"

"Something very bad, I'm afraid... Something normally impossible..." Morty said, standing up stiffly. "She..."

"She 'what'?" Silver demanded.

Morty crossed his arms and turned his back. "She meets a man," he said, "who is taller than me."

"..." Silver fell on his hands and knees, voiceless at the unveiling of this idiotic prophesy.

"I found them! See? These were the new photos I took," Irwin said, summoning Morty beside him.

"Oh. That's a nice one..." Morty said, hunching over the red and white binder.

In abject terror, Silver questioned everything: The two strange men before him. The reason why he was here now. His rivalry with Lyra. And what it meant to follow her around. (Like he did.)_ If these are t__he type of guys she attracts, _he considered,_ then... what does that make me? _With this question, he found himself banished into a swirling realm of putrid nothingness (and ice cream!), one composed entirely of the weirdness that he thought he lacked, but in reality, actually possessed all along.

"When you're done feeling sorry for yourself... we'll let you join the club," Morty said. "It's fairly simple... and it has plenty of perks. You're allowed in... just as long as you abide by the Lyra Fan Club Oath."

"What. Is. That," Silver asked in monotone, grasping the stony earth in despair.

"One, Lyra is everyone's," Morty counted off on his fingers; "Two, Lyra is everybody's. Three, No one takes Lyra for themselves." He scratched his head. "Hoh, there was another rule that was a reference to some... thing, but I forgot what it was."

"That's the _same_ fricken rule, THREE times," Silver stated angrily. "And with three different pronouns?" He held his head in an attempt to remember his prestigious crime-funded tutoring and schooling. _But they're all used awkwardly... 'Themselves'? Isn't that reflexive to the previous pronouns? It's like the statements went out of their way to be gender neutral..._ His brain began to hurt from all this nerding-out._  
_

"Yes... because she has female fans too," Morty said, resting his ice cream bucket on his belly and reclining against a boulder.

"I thought I told you to STAY OUT of my head."

"Oh. I just remembered the fourth and fifth rule," Morty muttered. "No talking about the Fan Club in front of Lyra. She gets upset about it for some reason... The fifth rule is basically the same thing..."

"YES, because ANYONE would get upset!" Silver blasted and stood up. "And seriously. What's up with all your retarded rule repeating?! This is absolutely the dumbest scene I've EVER had the misfortune to cross upon... A club for a bunch of STALKERS."

"You'd fit in nicely ey," Morty added.

"Hmph! I'm out of here." Silver spun around to leave.

"Irwin, you have so many artistic pictures of her... Oh? What's this? There's blood," Morty stated loudly; "A picture of Lyra in bandages." He held it above his head to give it better lighting. "It seems she accidentally scraped her legs. Ah, she's taking off her thigh-highs."

Silver hurried over. "Let me see," he blurted.

"Creepy." Morty shook his head. "So you're into gore..."

"What are you babbling about?" (He was clearly into legs.) Silver ripped the picture from Morty's hand. He then flipped through the binder. "What the heck!" Silver yelled in disapproval. "These are all candid shots!"

"Err... Yes! This is a 'Fan Club'," Irwin said, blinking rapidly. "This is what one _does_."

"What a boring guy you are," Morty said, then yawning to prove his point. "So serious about... everything."

Turning a page, Silver stopped at a photo of Lyra sleeping. She was curled up under a tree with Quilava nestled beside her legs. Unable to pull his eyes away from her sleeping face, he slid the picture out from its plastic sheet.

"That'll be 400 pokedollars... 200 a print." Irwin held his hand out.

"You're trying to make money off her? Low-life scum!" Silver kicked him furiously. "I'll kill you!"

Silver handed Irwin his trainer card.

"Thank you for your purchase," Irwin stated, swiping it through his pokegear's card reader.

Silver reached into his pocket and pulled out an older photo of Lyra to compare it to his new ones. The old photo in question was one he had stolen from Lyra's family photo album. It was a picture of her as a child. The cute little girl was—impossibly—stuffing herself into a tiny cardboard box. He wasn't sure why he stole it to begin with._ So I'm collecting these now?_ he asked himself; _It's become a trading card game to me... is that it? Yes. That sounds slightly less disturbing. But actually... I LIKE looking at these?_

_Hah..._

_I'm pathetic... _

_No, I'm definitely not as bad as these two guys here..._ Silver looked up and found Morty laughing at him.

_Die bastard!_ Silver thought, clenching a fist.

"Settle down... It's getting late, so why don't you stay the night?" Morty offered, "I bet you and your team are exhausted... Since you've been wandering around aimlessly for so long..."

"You make it sound like I was lost. Well—just so you know— I WASN'T lost!" Silver pocketed the photos and feigned composure. "And I'm not sleeping on this cliff, especially not with you creeping around. You fricken creep."

"Why? There's plenty of room," Morty said, unzipping a purple backpack. "And I brought extra food."

Silver's stomach growled, almost as if against his will.

"There, see?" Morty shook his head. "Here you go." He handed Silver a cold plastic cup and a spoon.

"THIS ISN'T FOOD, you IDIOT," Silver upbraided him. "This is ice cream! This isn't sufficient nourishment! This won't satisfy my HUNGER."

"Hn. Nothing satisfies you anyway, so it doesn't matter." Morty snubbed him, settling back down and pulling his large scarf up over his nose.

Silver hid his dudgeon, just for tonight, and hungrily devoured the cold dessert.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the platform, Irwin wrapped himself up in his own cape. He resembled a burrito. Or some kind of cocooned bug. Whatever!

"Lunatics..." Silver muttered, sitting down on the stone steps. In the following silent moments he closed his eyes and managed to nod off.

Only to have Irwin's annoying voice pull him awake: "Morty, tell me a _stooory_."

"Hn," Morty grumbled, apparently waking up as well. "...What kind?"

"Shut up and GO TO SLEEP," Silver said.

"Ah, a ghost story," Irwin said, humming cheerfully; "That would be fuuun."

"No it WOULDN'T," Silver exploded. "Go to sleep!"

"Shrimp, just close your ears if you don't want to hear," Morty said. "Story telling is my specialty, so I never turn down a request."

"You really are a demon." Silver laughed bitterly. "Because if you were actually human... you'd know for a fact that humans can't close their ears!"

Morty ignored him. "I'll tell you a good one... This is a true story," he began, adjusting his sports headband. "Ok. Do you remember Champion Red's disappearance two years ago?"

"Y-yes?" Irwin responded, already shivering in fear.

_Morons. _Silver scoffed and folded his arms to keep away the cave's creeping chill.

"Not long ago, there was a man walking home from work," Morty said. "He was in good spirits until, suddenly, a wave of sleepiness struck him... Overcome with the need to sleep, he stopped for a nap in the middle of the road... It was late at night when he woke up again.

"The man's pokegear radio was blaring a static-filled melody, one which crept up his spine and paralyzed him with horror. Intensely, he wished all sound would cease to exist, just so he didn't have to hear that inflicting nightmare. 'What's going on here' the man asked, noticing the wood floor beneath him, 'wha, where am I? Didn't I fall asleep outside?' Looking around, the man recognized where he was. He was lying in middle of Sprout Tower... Only... its support pillar wasn't moving at all. Time had stopped."

_A true story, yeah right!_ Silver thought, watching as Irwin cowered closer to Morty.

"Desperately, the man tried to shut off his pokegear, but it kept going," Morty continued. "It wouldn't turn off. Even when he pulled out the battery... A cold chill crept up the man's neck and the radio's deathly static grew louder. He stomped it and threw it. But it became so loud, his own inner mind was screeching.

"The man ran and tried every door and window, one by one, only to realize that they were all boarded up... Naturally, he next checked on his pokemon, figuring they could help him... But they were gone... In their places were five Unown and a single Cyndaquil..." Morty looked down, slowly pulling his scarf away from his face before speaking again: "The Unown were spelling a word... This word was... 'LEAVE'... And the Cyndaquil was named... 'HURRY'... 'Leave. Hurry...' A voice on the radio whispered."

"KYAAAAA!" Irwin screamed like a girl, causing Silver to hold his ears.

"Wimp!" Silver said, annoyed by EVERYTHING. "That wasn't scary at all!"

"Oh, but the story is far from over..." Morty said, clasping his hands together. "Yes... No matter how he hurried, the man couldn't leave. He was locked in. By something. Somewhere... When he called his Cyndaquil out to try and torch a window off, it screamed and disappeared into the loud shadows... Panic-stricken, the man checked his pokemon again. The Unown had changed, and were now spelling out: 'HE DIED.' Horrified, the man wandered on, climbing a ladder leading to a room with a sign in the middle... The sign read: TURN BACK NOW?"

"This _story_ better turn back now," Silver threatened and raised a fist again, "before I punch it's storyteller in the FACE."

"You know what?" Irwin said, sputtering with indignation. "You're just rude! ...Go away!"

"Gladly!" Silver spat, standing up to leave. But Morty continued his tale without abandon, somehow riveting the boy in place.

"The man screamed, his voice falling under his paranoia, and he ran through the tower. The shadows weighed down on him. There were unknown presences tainting his every step. He ran a seemingly endless distance until he saw two orderly lines of people, just standing there... They were people he knew from his hometown," Morty said, a slight smile creasing on his face. "Relieved to see them all there, the man quickly approached them... but... except for a slight swaying and creaking, they were unmoving. And upon closer look, their skin, grey. All were hanging from the rafters by their swollen, broken necks. The shadows closed in on him and the man grew colder at this horrific scene, their deaths walking alongside his consciousness as his escaping scream fell to a mere whisper in his throat. But even now, he was just barely halfway to hell. Ebbing from the darkness, a boy slowly approached him. Drifting.. Floating... this boy was none other than the Champion... Red... pale, dismembered, and crying dripping tears of... blood."

Irwin whimpered pitifully, curling up against the expressionless Morty.

"Oh boy," Silver said, laughing loudly. "Tears of blood. How original! What a lame ass story. Champion Red makes a crappy boogie man." But the damp darkness of the cave was creeping up on Silver. Its drafty and clingy atmosphere made the story so much more realistic... In spite of himself, he began hunching and glancing over his shoulders anxiously.

"The man, filled with terror, fixed his eyes on the butchered Champion Red," Morty said. "It was really him... the poor quiet boy who had been ruthlessly hunted by the public years prior. Being so young and charming, the Champion was loved to the point of obsession. So, somehow... at one point..." Morty changed and lightened his voice to that of a young boy's: "I was chopped up. And stuffed under the floorboards of this tower... They left me here. Lonely... so lonely... It's cold... Stay here." Morty's voice regained its normal dissonance. "Reaching his white, bloody hands towards the man, Red grabbed him and dragged him through the floorboards, the process draining the air from the man's lungs and sending him into spasms. The man cried and struggled in blind, confined agony... And everything went dark... He was locked in a murky, boarded-up grave beneath the tower. No air. No longer alive... The fear of death still with him. Forever."

"Eek!" Irwin cried.

Silver found himself shivering and scooting closer to Morty as well. For some crazy reason, the Gym Leader's bored expression proved comforting.

_Damn it! Stupid story!_ Silver glanced around tensely. _That wasn't scary! Wasn't! That's right... there's nothing to fear but the evil in my own sinister heart!_

Morty threw a rock into the distance. And Silver flinched so much, he fell over and bashed his own head.

"Heh." Morty laughed at Silver's misfortune (much to the boy's inhuman growling). "After that, the man woke up... He was back outside and on the road where he had fallen asleep... and a big-nosed Hypno was staring down at him," Morty explained. "Apparently, it had used Hypnosis and Nightmare on him... The man got up and went home to his wife and kids... The End."

"Chilling!" Irwin said.

"That was ASININELY anti-climatic!" Silver proclaimed.

"Yes, but no one really knows for sure what happened to Champion Red," Morty went on. "Maybe that was actually a glimpse of the truth... or a peek of the future to be? As we all know, we can sometimes see what's beyond the mortal plane... And sometimes, the eyes of the dead can weigh on our shoulders. So don't look... behind you... Good night, everyone." The gym leader pulled his scarf back over his face and snored.

"Night night," Irwin said, curling up and going back to sleep with no further troubles.

_I hate you!_ Silver quivered in thought, ..._Creepy idiot gym leader!_

_~To Be Continued~_

* * *

Morty: The Master of Pokemon Creepypasta


	26. Learned Strength

"Silver," a woman called his name softly. "Let's play that game again." She pulled a blanket over the cold wooden floor and lifted the small boy into her lap. Settled in her arms, he looked up into her face. She was important to him. Important but indiscernible. With this gap in his memory, he couldn't remember her face. But even so, he could never forget those sharp, black-rimmed glasses framing her eyes.

Those glasses tangled in her stringy red hair and she pulled them loose. With their plastic clicking, she placed the frames on him—taking them on and off after each utterance of, "R—k. Silver. R—k. Silver..." What kind of name was R—k and why couldn't he remember what it was? It was a guttural sound, and personally, it was unimportant. The only thing that mattered was her happiness. This was enough.

The woman took the frames off him. "Silver," she said. "You're Silver now. But if I do this..." The woman placed the frames back on the boy, possessively clutching him closer. "R—k, mom is sad that she can't see you anymore... But mom is working hard so you and Silver can live together with mom, just like this."

Silver closed his eyes and relaxed._ This game was weird... she'd always pretend that I was some other boy,_ he thought;_ It was confusing. My stupid, childish self would worry that she'd forgotten my real name. But if I cried at all, she would be angry and scold me, placing me in a bed to sleep for what felt like a century. So I remained silent._

The background flashed through his eyes like a sudden thought. A mob of pokedolls smiled down from the surrounding, towering shelves.

"That's right. You're a good boy," she went on, "for now... If only. Mom wishes she could stuff you both and keep you here with her forever... Preserve you. So you won't go rotten like your fathers! One after another, they did, in one way or another... I hate it. You understand? Don't you dare do the same. Otherwise, mom will have no choice, will she?"

Abruptly, Silver's mind slipped back away.

He had fallen asleep on that familiar hill blanketed in plush green grass and red flowers—the hill behind the daycare where that old couple lived. The breeze was always warm and gentle there, but if one strayed too far, it was easy to be frozen by the icy draft that blew from the craggy side of the bluff.

"Be good! Don't go into the cave while mom is gone. Mind the Old Man and the Old Lady, because if you're bad," his mother warned with a laugh, "the Sneasel will come out of the cave at night and get you...!"

When she spoke like this, it was easy to believe that she hated him. Internalized, her cackle was like a long-winded shiver. Of course she hated him.

"Don't you dare cry! Silver... You have nothing to fear if you behave!"

Scared, he listened to her and behaved as told. _And every day, _he thought,_ I would stand on that hill overlooking the water... at a sea that was probably swallowing the island and me, and everything on it. The days flowed into each other. I waited. But she never came back. And one day, despite her promise..._

"This is him, Sir," a Team Rocket grunt said. "The records match up." The uniformity of this grunt and the others pressed upon him like a life-sentencing.

A tall, suited man stepped forward and stood over the young boy. His face was one the boy would see well into the future—sunken and sculpted. His very presence emanated authority. The boy didn't know it at the time, but this man was his father.

After flipping through his suit jacket, the man pulled out a stiff card and glanced at it. He chuckled menacingly as he gazed upon Silver. "It's him! Such a cold stare," the man said. "Just like your mother."

Silver backed away but bumped into the legs of a grunt. "What now, Boss?" the grunt asked.

"Bag him. We're leaving."

White, gloved hands reached down and snatched Silver away, covering up his screams and his eyes. He kicked and struggled but nothing was changed. _Where were the Old Man and the Old Lady?_ he wondered in hindsight;_ Couldn't they hear me? No, I was too far away, they couldn't hear me from this hill... I cried and called for HER... But of course, no one came._

With a black bag over his head, there was the hum of a boat engine, and the grunts taunting him with their idiotic words: "You're fortunate the boss took pity and picked you up. That ice queen abandoned you, little boy."

"Isn't that too bad, kid?" another asked. "Ah, but don't you worry. The Boss has a special place for you. Didn't you know? Don't you know who you are?"

From then on, the boy's recollections of that green hill and the clear sea were replaced with those of moldy warehouses, hidden caves, old mansions, and secret passages. Up until this strange rumination, it seemed he'd mostly forgotten about that clear place where he had waited for his mother. For, while crawling amongst the shadows and cobwebs of those basements, he realized the truth. Such a crisp and clear world never really existed.

"From now on, you'll train to become... the successor of Team Rocket!"

With reality fading in and out and his sleep deteriorating, Silver became aware of the cold cavern floor beneath his body.

"What a bad tasting dream," a voice muttered. "So bitter... It's not sweet at all."

Gasping, Silver jumped awake. He found a pair of blue, narrow eyes leering down at him. Morty was crouched over him, observing his face and seemingly studying him in the same manner one would study dried-up roadkill.

"Urgh!" Silver yelped, scrambling away and grabbing the cave wall as he stood up. "What the... Don't stare at people as they sleep, you sicko!" _Just... now,_ he then thought, holding his head._ Didn't he say something about my dream tasting bad? Was he eating my dream? Ugh. Isn't that a move? Just... what the hell is he? Wait, is he a POKEMON?!_

Morty turned away, calmly digging through his backpack before asking, "You hungry, Shrimp?"

"No! I don't want any ice cream!" Silver yelled. "What the crap were you doing to me in my sleep?!"

Morty took his sweet time before answering: "What are you talking about, Shrimp? I was only looking at your face... and thinking about how fun it would be to draw on it with a marker..."

"How old are you?" Silver retorted. "...Eight?"

"Eighteen," Morty answered. "I'm only four years ahead of you... and already so much taller..."

"Humph. You're nothing special." Silver crossed his arms with extreme grumpiness._ And are you trying to play innocent now?_ he thought defiantly. _Trying to trick me into thinking I'm crazy? Ha! Well whatever. I know what you were doing! ...I think. _It was then that Silver realized that he was all alone with Morty. Juggler Irwin was nowhere to be found. _Gah. _Silver glanced around._ Where'd that other disgrace to nature go?_

"They say that 'he who rejects ice cream for breakfast... is a health freak.' Heh. It's an ice cream koan... Get it? Here." Morty threw a packet at him. "I was told that it was a cookie, but it's not very sweet... It's actually made from baked seaweed and rice... False advertising, I'd say."

Silver opened the packet and inspected the savory cracker within._ Why am I even trusting food from this freak?_ he wondered; _It was still wrapped, but still... Damn it, I'm so hungry!_ Silver gave in and devoured it.

"You're welcome," Morty said. He then poured a tidal wave of cookies from his bag. "Oh. You can have the rest... I don't like them."

"Don't shove your unwanted crap on other people!" Silver blasted. Regardless, he quickly gathered them up and stuffed them into his pockets.

"Share them with your pokemon. They're probably hungry by now..."

"Heh... Pokemon don't need to eat." Silver held out his arms and shrugged. "Just take them to a pokecenter and they're shot up with nutrients. That's all they need."

"MORTY!" Irwin suddenly yelled, tumbling down the stairs.

"Hoi. Did you find out what it was?" the Gym Leader asked, somewhat startled.

"T-t-t-t-tea-" Irwin twittered, holding his terrorized face.

"What's going on?" Silver demanded. "What's all this about tea?"

"Shh, Shrimp. Team Rocket's nearby," Morty said, lightly patting the frightened Juggler's head. "Good Irwin."

Silver quickly lost his composure. "Team Rocket?" he repeated.

"That's right... Your old man's people are nearby." Morty glanced back at Silver. "Want to go fight them now... eh?"

"Geh..." Silver stepped away. _This guy, _he thought._ He probably knows... everything about me by now._

"Don't worry. I don't care who you are. You're still a shrimp..." Morty folded his arms shiftlessly. "A shrimp... with really bad-tasting dreams."

"You!" Silver ejected, pointing at him. "Follow logic when admitting to your crimes!"

"What did you mean by his 'old man'?" Irwin beseeched an explication from Morty. "A retired individual?"

"A parental unit," Morty clarified.

"I'm getting the frick out of here," Silver informed them. Thankfully, he was unaware of this unwarranted verbosity of said-isms, otherwise he would've caused quite a scene._ Tch. When you meet people crazier than Lyra,_ he thought;_ you know you're screwed!_

"Hold it," Morty said, digging into his pack again.

Silver stopped on the stairs, desperate to escape. "What do you want NOW?" he demanded.

"Take these with you. Catch." Morty threw a stapled stack of papers and a disc player at him. "It's a walkthrough of this place and HM 04. Follow from the marked area... Team Rocket is in the basement level as we speak... Good luck."

"R...Right," Silver answered strangely, gripping both the disc player and paper stack. "I-I didn't need a guide or anything... I can find my way! But of course. This will make things quick."_ Why... is this guy helping me?_ he wondered. _Weird... And now I'm even more confused..._

Morty glanced at Silver sideways, eternally all-knowing of the boy's thoughts, but still choosing to remain silent.

With no further words of gratitude, Silver left the Juggler and Gym Leader behind, and in the ensuing moments, an earth-shaking rumbling accosted the cavern.

"And there it is now," Morty said, sitting down in exhaustion. "I wonder what will happen next?..."

"Eee! He's trying to stop Team Rocket? All by himself?" Irwin squeaked "He'll be alright, won't he? Oh!" He clasped his head in sudden realization. "He forgot to sign up for the Lyra Fan Club!"

"It's better off that way..." Morty said, lying back down to sleep. "He'd only break all our rules, anyhow."

* * *

Standing on a cave ledge overlooking her busy Team Rocket grunts, a red-haired woman held her arms akimbo and scowled. Sensing her displeasure, her minions below hastened to bind and gag their last victims: a whole pile of defeated pokemon trainers.

"Look at this haul, it's amazing, yes?" a grunt remarked to another, holding a load of pokeballs in his arms.

"The trainers down here had surprisingly tough pokemon!" the other grunt said. "They sucked at using them, though... Mwahaha! Well it doesn't matter now. These stolen goods are in capable hands!"

All the defeated pokemon trainers who had been unfortunate enough to traverse Mt. Mortar at the time of the raid had been tied-up, gagged, and collected in a heap. Squirming helplessly, they let out muffled pleas and cries.

"Madam Ariana," a grunt said, addressing the red-haired woman who sternly watched over them. "We've successfully kidnapped every trainer from the basement levels!"

"Excellent," Ariana said. "Where is Executive Proton? I want a status report!"

Proton emerged from the shadows. "The mission has been accomplished... Phase two of the deconstruction is underway and the hardware has already been removed," he said. "Shall we reorganize?" He tipped his cap and stared at Ariana with his sharp green eyes.

"Of course. Brilliant work, Proton. Archer is waiting for you at the Goldenrod base," she said, a self-satisfied smirk settling on her dreadfully-stiff face. "From there on out, you'll proceed with phase four. In the meantime, my unit will mobilize at nightfall... So be waiting for us."

"Mwahahah... Will do." Proton laughed evilly, disappearing back into the shadows.

"Now then, back to business!" Ariana declared, turning around and yelling at a hole in the cave wall. "What's taking so long?... Haven't you finished the maser removal yet?!"

"Un-installation is at eighty-eight percent," a grunt answered.

"So close!" She gritted her teeth and her smirk became an insane barring of her fangs. "Bring in the Armorized Dynamic Heavy Dolly and begin loading it! Though _this_ random secret plan was a failure, due to Mt. Mortar's uncontrollable electric field, the next secret plan will SURELY make use of our genius technology... five men per component! Don't forget to lift with your knees!"

"Yes Madam! You guys, she wants to bring in the ADHD!"

A rumbling shook the cave once again.

"Wohohohohohoho!" Ariana whooped a backhanded laugh. "Once we re-install at the Goldrenrod Radio Tower, all of Johto will be ours! Ours, ours, ours! ...Mind-control all around!"

A house-sized mechanized tank with a lofty truck-bed rolled forth, drilling through the cavern's far wall and parking alongside it. A massive ramp was pushed against the tank and grunts scrambled left and right to lift tarp-covered boxes and equipment into it. Among this procession, about ten grunts carried a computer case that looked more like a wall.

"Load the mother brain last," Ariana said. "Be aware that it, along with the maser, is one of the most sophisticated pieces of equipment we own... No, in the world! Our current scientists won't be able to re-build it if anything happens, so don't be taking it apart!"

"Yes Madam!"

"Hmm hm hn," she laughed quietly to herself. "Perfect. Everything is going as planned. Soon, every pokemon in Johto will be under Team Rocket's command. Then... the possibilities will be endless!"

"Wah!" Cries and screams began to surface from the darkness, sending countless grunts scattering in terror.

"Aaagh!"

"You! Stop!" Ariana shouted, disconcerted by the sight a looming figure. "What's... going on down there?"

With his hands in his pockets, Silver emerged as the mysterious figure, his Sneasel and Croconaw following at his sides. "...Me," he announced, glowering at Ariana.

"Silver!" she choked, visibly bewildered. "What are you doing? Are you still trying to defy your father's grand intentions?"

"Grand intentions? What are you going on about, you old hag?" Silver scoffed. "There's nothing grand about Team Rocket... You're all just like bugs... crawling back up the wall after being squashed with a slipper!"

"How dare you!" Ariana hissed, grasping her arm as if his sharp words had left a wound there. "I tire of your foolish disobedience... that's no way to speak to your mother!"

"Shut up!" Silver snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. "I didn't come here to listen to one of your damn lectures. I came here to eradicate the pest known as Team Rocket, once and for all!"

"That's it!" Ariana screamed. "It's time for some long-awaited discipline!" Sliding down from the crumbling ledge, she produced a large medical syringe from her belt. "You won't be escaping from me again," she said, threatening him with it. "Don't you understand yet, Silver? You're going to sleep until you do... This is the power of SCIENCE!"

"Get away from me, you psychotic wind bag!" He stepped away. "Sneasel, icy wind, stat!" Sneasel raised his sharp forked claws and mewled fiercely, all before opening his mouth and hissing out a frosted gust of wind.

"Err...agh.." Ariana fell to her knees, shivering. "You brat! If that's how you want to play, then..." She managed to throw out two pokeballs. "Arbok, Gloom! Crush them!" she ordered. "Poison sting! Mega drain!"

"Haaaaar!" Arbok spat and slithered forth, bearing her fangs. Gloom drooled and began to drone.

"Hmph! Faint attack!" Silver pointed, directing Sneasel forward. "Croconaw! Ice fang!" He sicked the reptile on Gloom. Whipping his blue tail, Croconaw swept through the air like a sweeping razor and tore into Gloom, frosting the pokemon with a single bite and dropping it, fainted. Stopping abruptly, he began to glow in a brilliant white light.

"Sneasel, take care of this... You know what to do!" Silver said, running off.

"You, come back here!" Ariana ran after Silver as Sneasel and Arbok tore at each other.

Silver ran for the wall-like computer sitting alongside Team Rocket's gigantic tank._ She said that this bulky thing was their irreplaceable mother computer,_ he thought, knowing what he had to do._ If it's important for their stupid comeback, then...  
_

"Then I'll just have to destroy it," Silver said aloud, raising his fists, "with my own two hands!"

"Nooo!" Ariana screamed desperately, flailing at the surrounding grunts and yelling, "Stop him, at any cost!"

Rocket launchers clicked into place, ready to be fired, and remaining grunts moved into position behind rocks and ledges.

Sneasel finished off Arbok with a powerful Quick Attack and, with his feline grace, lithely pounced Ariana to the ground.

Yelling to summon his strength, Silver frenetically rammed his fists through the steel-walled computer, breaking through its circuitry and ripping out fistfuls of wires. Tearing at it, he screamed with unending outrage, "Useless! Useless Team Rocket is no more!" He yanked out components, like the still-beating organs of an enemy, and threw them on the ground, stomping them into chunks. "Take this, you pathetic weaklings! ERAGH!" His stomping continued to SUCH an excess, that it admittedly looked kind of ridiculous.

"You UNGRATEFUL BRAT," Ariana screamed, her nose wrinkling with pure rage. "How dare you reject our vision for the future... your father's dream! I'm going to tell him about this!"

"Go ahead! Tell him!" Silver swung around, rebounding from the rockets which rapidly fired at him. "Tell him that I brought down his cowardly, feeble organization. Tell him 'Silver did this!' Nothing could make me HAPPIER. Because if that stupid man heard about that, maybe he'd take me SERIOUSLY for once."

Ariana turned to the grunts who were firing. "Y-you idiots! I said STOP him at any cost, not blow him up!" She held her face and roared. "You incompetent fools! Grab him! Stop him, stop him!"

"Tch!" Silver clicked in annoyance. "Get out of my way!" Running up the wall alongside the mechanized tank, he flipped and then landed on it. "It's time to give it up! You don't need ANY of this!" He punched his fists together, and upon raising then, swung them down and punched at the vehicle's hood relentlessly, denting it into a fizzled explosion of static and smoke.

"Seize fire and mobilize the Armorized Dynamic Heavy Dolly! Hurry!" Ariana commanded. "Reposition and collect the maser. Start the Giga Drills!"

"Yes ma'am!" the grunts chanted. "Mobilizing the ADHD! Giga Drills, on!" From a high vantage point, several Rocket Scientists appeared and played with what looked like portable video game devices, switching on the armored transport vehicle and moving it forward.

**"GYUUUUUUUN!"** the vehicle's two front drills screeched as they spun. Rattled, Silver shook away his short-lived fright and kept smashing the hood, panting as his bloodied fists kept hammering away. The engine below him began to grind and sputter.

"Such a powerful child... You had all the makings of a Rocket Executive or even the next Boss..." Ariana said dolefully, turning aside and spitting. "But you could never accomplish what you were told to do. So unruly... That is what makes you the ONLY useless child in the family!"

"That's right," Silver stopped long enough to declare; "I'm nothing like your perfect, spoiled little alien. That bowl-headed martian! Why is that? I wonder..." He clenched his swollen fists together for a moment of rest, but then his wrath urged him to continue punching. "Hrgh!" His fists thinned the metal. "Did you really send her to Sinnoh? Just to become a scientist?" he continued; "Or did you finally realize how pitiful life in Team Rocket was? Of course you didn't want your precious, only daughter in such a LAME environment!"

"You leave your sister out of this!" Ariana hissed and stammered. "You should... should learn to respect your family... We simply needed more scientists, so your father and I! We decided! That sending her there was for the best! And I..." Ariana wiped dirt from her mouth and stood up. "I wanted my daughter to lead the happy, ordinary school life that I never had... There's nothing wrong with that! It's a short time in a girl's life, and... it's every girl's dream! So... You shut up about it!"

"Lucky her! That's why I have nothing in common with my so-called family." Silver laughed resentfully. "You have stupid standards of living and pointless dreams! You play favorites and coddle the weak... And you hold back the strong in favor of letting the rest catch up... Bumbling around as a big, disappointing group of weaklings... that's why you never get anywhere! You want me to respect you just because we're family? Mars is but half a sibling, and you... You're not even my real mother! And there's NEVER been respect between us! So shut up the hell up!" As he had said this, the vehicle beneath him backed him against the wall—its drills finally turning on him in threat but pausing.

"You will regret your insolence," Ariana said, facing away. "We'll be the ones to find your father! And when we do, we'll rebuild Team Rocket... and then we'll NEVER take you back!"

"Fat chance, you old bag!" Silver yelled. "Team Rocket is finished!" Huffing, he went back to work, pounding-in the now-exposed engine. Boiling grease spurted up from it, like blood, and the vehicle began to to overload.

"Stupid child! Get down from there before you kill yourself!" as she warned him of this, a rocket missile exploded beside Silver and sent him rolling across the massive vehicle's hood.

"Who did that?" Ariana screamed. "I said 'seize fire'! What the hell are you fools doing with those drills?!"

"Nngh..." Silver grunted, opening his eyes. In just a small amount of time, both the tank's Giga Drills had repositioned toward him. With their monstrous sounds, they spun closer and pinned him to the cave wall, the threat of obliteration eminent. There was no where left for him to move or run.

_~To Be Continued...~_


	27. How a Drill Works

"Shut it off! Right now!" Ariana screamed, her startled voice carving across the cave's high cliffs. Panicked by this, the Team Rocket scientists struggled to re-program the tank's drills via their dual-screen gaming devices, but they were unsuccessful.

"It's no good," the lead scientist said. "The receiver must have been smashed, the drills aren't responding!"

Crouching down upon the hood of the heavy tank, Silver braced himself and lifted his arms outwards in preparation to grab the drills._ Three years ago, _Silver thought,_ I swore to that old fool, my dad, that I would become a stronger man... That I would never rely on anyone else!_ _I refused his ideas... his ways of worthlessly investing so much trust in Team Rocket... in a bunch of weaklings who ceaselessly failed him! _Silver outstretched his fingers and cemented his footing. _I once believed in that man... because he once told me he was the best. The best? The best at running away! The best at hiding behind others! Ever since that day, I've been seeking to end this game by aiming for a level of greatness that stood only slightly above Team Rocket's. But no more! I now have a greater goal... A rivalry to overcome._ His thoughts settled on Lyra and he was overcome with fervor.

_Lyra!_ He addressed his rival in thought:_ I still don't understand you one bit, you weird FREAK. It pisses me off so bad... That's right! Team Rocket is now an afterthought! I'm going to rise up even further, because I'm not dying until I surpass and defeat you! I won't stop following you around until you look at me instead... until you tell me that I'm the most important, consuming thing in your whole pitiful life!  
_

"No way... is it ending here!" Silver gasped painfully, grasping the churning sides of the spiraling drills. "Because! I've got shit to do!" Jamming his fingers against their abrasive, helical threads, he slowed their rotation and caused them to monstrously groan and shriek. The skin on his hands tore and went numb from the friction, but he wrenched them inward and somehow managed to grind them to a halt—their motors practically screaming at this impossibility. He held them that way, hoping to burn them out, but kept fighting his slipping grasp._ This isn't going to work! _he realized; _I can't stop two fricken' humongous drills with my bare hands! I'm not strong enough... No... Damn it, try harder! I'm—_

Two blue arms ripped past Silver and smashed through the first drill, and then, a blue scaly tail—sweeping through the air like a free-falling chain—flew past. The second drill dropped, torn clear off its hydraulic arm, and the two decapitated drill heads smashed down onto the tank's hood. Showing himself, Silver's savior roared and snapped his white fangs in victory. "FERAAAA!" the pokemon roared, throwing back his head and frightening Silver with his huge, glistening sharp teeth.

"Cr...Croconaw..." Silver managed to gasp, shielding his eyes from the tank's flowing sparks and smoke. "You've... changed."

"Feraligatr," the pokemon corrected, grumbling with a deep, bass growl. This was his final form. He had evolved.

_Wait,_ Silver thought, crouching down and staring at the dismantled drill arms; _Did he use Strength just now? That move was incredible..._

"Silver, y-you IDIOT!" Ariana yelled, staying behind her fleeing troops. "Look at your hands, look at what you've done! You must stop this, you disobedient child... Don't you understand? We're doing this for your father! We're trying to restore his glory so he can return! You... Don't you want to SEE him again?"

Silver went limp on the hood of the tank. The blood loss from his torn hands was sapping his strength. "I don't... care," he said, staring off into the cave's dark blue recesses._ It's a lie, _he thought; _Everything I say... is a contradiction._

"Fine then. Go ahead! Abandon your destiny!" Ariana sniffled, facing away and wiping her face on her sleeve.

"**CHRRRRRRR!**" the cave rumbled and shuddered once again, but this time without the aid of the drilling tank. The alarmed calls of Team Rocket grunts echoed from far off.

"Madam! Madam!" a scientist said, brushing past the fleeing troops. "There's been an accident. The hydrogen chamber on the maser somehow exploded!"

"What?" Ariana spat.

"And it damaged this level of the cave's load-bearing wall." The scientist pushed up his glasses. "In other words... We've gotta scoot!"

Hearing the man's frightening announcement, the nearby hostages mumbled and wailed through their cloth gags. Not only had their dear pokemon been stolen from their very hands, but now, they were going to be buried alive as well. They struggled and pleaded to be released, but the grunts were too busy for any mercy.

"This is going all wrong..." Ariana said and held her forehead in exasperation. "I understand. Let's move out." She hurried alongside the scampering scientist.

"Wait just a moment!" Silver spat, causing her to stop.

"What is it?" Ariana snapped back at him. "Didn't you hear the scientist? We have to escape!"

"I'm curious about someone," Silver began, raising his voice over the din of the crumbling cave, "about a woman with long red hair and black-rimmed glasses... Did my dad know a woman like that?"

"Tch," Ariana scoffed bitterly. "As much as it pains me... your father _knew_ lots of women... He had a particular obsession with redheads, not that I can blame him." She fluffed her red pompadour in point. "But this is about your _birth _mother, isn't it? Why can't you just accept ME? Aren't I good enough? ...You're such an ungrateful child. Just die!"

Silver held his numbing hands and gazed downward. Sneasel, sensing his trainer's fatigue, bounded up the vehicle and landed beside him and Feraligatr. Carefully taking Silver's hands between his forked claws, Sneasel blew on them with chilled breath, presumably to slow the bleeding.

"How touching. An ice-type pokemon, hm?" Ariana said. "Didn't you know, boy? It's a competitively weak type... No one uses them seriously! But that woman... she went far in the Pokemon League with them... Her strength must've impressed your father. He was always a sucker for strong women, or so I've learned from experience." She then let out a laugh, which faded away as a boulder fell down and covered her line of sight.

Brushing Sneasel back, Silver stood up to say more, but found Ariana running away in the distance. "Damn it..." he muttered, sliding off the tall tank's side. He groaned as he hit the ground, dodging the falling rubble and making his way forward. Stumbling close to the pile of whining, tied-up trainers, he growled._ What a pain,_ he thought;_I have to get these wimps out of here, since Team Rocket left them behind..._  


"Sneasel, Feraligatr... slash their ties," Silver said, grudgingly pointing at at the trainers. He watched motionlessly as his pokemon obeyed.

"Hwaaarggh!" a deep voice echoed from far off.

"What the frick was that?!" Silver yelped.

Out from the side of a nearby cave wall, a muscled and scruffy man in a white karate gi broke through. "Hey! I am the Karate King, Master Kiyo!" the man bellowed, raising his fists up high and flexing. "I have destroyed Team Rocket's death machine with my crushing fists and thwarted their evil plans!"

Silver scowled, fully frustrated._ NO, **I** have, _he thought, angered that anyone would try to claim his glory;_ I destroyed their flimsy, retarded computer! I DID. But then again... That scientist said that some object unexpectedly exploded back there and... _"Wait... So YOU were the one who blew up the cave?" Silver blasted. "Incredible... And you even had the nerve to punch through the walls... This is ridiculous! Johto is filled with reckless MORONS."

"Waaaarggh!" Master Kiyo howled mightily.

Silver grimaced, increasingly bewildered._ I just remembered something..._ he thought._ This man said that he was Master Kiyo. Wasn't that the oaf who supposedly trained that creepy idiot gym leader?..._

"My fists have created an escape route!" the karate master yelled. "We'll argue later... Let us make haste to the upper levels!"

Whimpering and thanking their rescuers, all the trainers piled past and escaped through the wall, Kiyo, Silver, and his pokemon following last. In moments, the cave collapsed-in on itself. Thankfully, all were saved.

* * *

A pokemon's beige, clawed foot stepped onto the lawn outside the Olivine City Gym, the nearby automatic doors whirring shut behind him. From the edge of the road, Lyra adjusted her puffy white cap and gazed at her newly evolved fire starter. He now stood about two head-lengths above her, almost blocking out the sun from her perspective.

"N...Nads!" Lyra finally stammered. "They grow up so fast... How can I... how can I POSSIBLY call you Lil' Bro NOW?" A single tear dripped down her cheek as she experienced profound sorrow (the type felt by all aging parents in light of their child's staggering growth). "Huuuuu... I remember when you were this tall." She held her hands about ten centimeters apart—a measly distance. She was insinuating that he was once the size of a ribbon spool.

Typhlosion huffed at this. "Typh..." he grumbled awkwardly. He didn't like it when Lyra treated him like a baby. A Lil' Bro was fine, though, but who knows if she'd continue that now.

"Pffft, just kidding." Lyra threw up her arms and laughed. Filled with warmth from her smile, Typhlosion leaned close and grabbed her, hugging her against his massive, fuzzy belly.

"W-whoa!" Lyra emitted, breaking into sweat. Sensing her discomfort, Typhlosion let her go.

"Phlo?" he muttered.

"Sorry..." Lyra laughed tensely, readjusting her hat. "Just gimmie... a little more time to get acquainted with your formidable size."

Saddened by this, he nodded silently and the two of them headed north.

"You did extremely-awesomely back there," Lyra said suddenly, encouraging him. "I thought Jasmine's Steelix would crush us! But you swept her team under the rug and gained massive experience... We'll be in Mahogany Town before you know it, right? Two more gyms left... Once we conquer those, we'll have completed the brunt of our journey. We've faced a lot... We've come a long way. It feels like a dream!" She stretched her arms up over her head and breathed deeply.

Typhlosion grunted in response.

_I'm acting like it's all good, but... what is this horrible feeling? _Lyra wondered; _It's not excitement... it's anxiety. It feels like something bad has happened... or is about to happen?_ Turning her eyes to the sky, her grin faltered when she noticed dust on the horizon. Typhlosion noticed it as well, but they continued on, the two of them never mentioning the unstable energy field they sensed in the air. They would make their way back north through Mt. Mortar—well into the night—and crash-rest at Mahogany Town's pokecenter in the early morning._  
_

* * *

Back at the base of Mt. Mortar, the escapees waited and recovered.

"Are those the last pokemon?" Master Kiyo asked, distrustfully watching Silver dig through his coat pockets.

"Tch... Yeah," Silver grumbled, shoving pokeballs into the mitt-like hands of a costumed Poke Maniac. The Poke Maniac rejoiced by jumping into the air and clicking his cloth lizard feet together. Silver wasn't even sure how he did that.

_This sucks!_ Silver thought._ After all the trouble I went through to rip these from Team Rocket... __I can't believe that this fat-headed do-gooder is making me give them all back!_

"That's a good boy! See? All the trainers are happy to have their pokemon back! You rescued everyone, you're the hero!" Master Kiyo congratulated Silver, slamming a boulder-sized hand down on his shoulder. "This must be a huge relief to them, especially after being in such a terrifying hostage situation!"

"Ooof!" Silver gasped, the wind knocked clear out of him._ Don't talk to me about hostage situations,_ he thought seethingly,_ I feel like I'm in one RIGHT now!  
_

"Alright! Our work here is done!" the karate king exclaimed. "You take care! Got that?"

"Hold it," Silver said, stopping the man from leaving. "...How did you know that I was carrying all those stolen pokemon?"

The karate master gleamed at Silver mysteriously—the sunlight catching in his greasy black hair and the dirt fluttering on the road behind him. "Many years ago, I was humiliated and chased out of my hometown by cold-hearted psychics," he boomed, the wind rustling his black belt as he stared into the distance. "Overnight, they destroyed the fighting dojo I had worked hard to build... and my lifelong dream fell along with it."

Silver narrowed his eyes at him. _Huh?... What's this have to do with ANYTHING? _he wondered rightfully.

"...So. I came here to Johto to hone my strength," Master Kiyo went on, "and that's when I met him! A strange, sickly boy with incredible mental strength! I was so impressed, that I taught him everything I knew."

_T__hat creep? _Silver thought, remembering Morty's eternally-bored face; _Mental strength, huh... Well I'll give him that. He's mental, alright.  
_

"Hah! Well let's just leave it at this: I wasn't the only who did the teaching." Kiyo crossed his arms. "Like him, I can now see the invisible! And hear the unhearable... With this power, I'll one day return to my hometown and reclaim my dojo! I'll prepare for that day... by continuing my search for a dual-typed, ghost and fighting pokemon!" Without another word, the karate master stalked back to Mt. Mortar.

_A fighting/ghost pokemon?... _Silver reflected on this incredible paradox. "That's impossible!" he yelled after him. "Such a pokemon will never exist! You're crazy!"

"Ha ha ha ha!" the man laughed, disappearing into the cave once again. He would wait a decade for his dream to be realized if need be.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

**In a hypothetical Lyra love triangle, I wonder how Silver would fare against Typhlosion in gijinka form.**

**kloku.*deviantart.*com/art/PKMN-Typhlosion-Gijinka-48282355**

**Shirtlessness is truly an incomprehensible weapon...**


	28. The Lake of Rage

Shaken awake by her discomfort, Lyra sat up to find herself sunken into the bench chair's worn, yellow cushion. Blinking at the reality of the shockingly bright pokecenter around her, she checked her tingling legs and found Typhlosion sleeping atop them. It would take time for him to understand that such cuddling was no longer feasible with his size. "Ah. That's why I can't feel anything," she said, managing to pull her limbs out from underneath him. "Completely asleep! It's like sitting on your legs during an assembly... Hey. Big guy! We need to get up."

"Phhsh..." Typhlosion snorted sleepily.

"Alright... Twenty more minutes." Lyra yawned, leaning back._ Ever since I arrived here in Mahogany Town, my mind's been really hazy, _she thought._ And my attention span has been even shorter than usual.__ I..._ She held her head, once again remembering her escape from Glitter Lighthouse with Silver. Somehow, she couldn't forget his voice in her ear or how he grabbed her from behind. The warmth, the sense of losing herself, and the contentment. She smacked her face with the palms of her hands. _Am I still thinking about THAT?_ she wondered. _Barf! _She knew she had some soul-searching to do if Jerkface—of all people—was the one responsible for these erratic fuzzy feelings. He was rude and insulting, not to mention constantly disrespecting her. Ordinarily, she would smack such a boy upside the head. _Oh wait, I already did!_ She laughed evilly._ But it really was unbelievable..._ Her mind went back to that time again. _His chest was so warm against my back. Are humans supposed to be that warm? That was too much. Yeah! There has to be an easier explanation.  
_

Lyra narrowed her eyes and sunk further into her chair cushion._ Oh. I know! He must have... stuffed a hot water bottle in his shirt!_ She crossed her arms at this 'easier' thought. _The red, flat kind found in our old first aid kit... No, that'd be CRAZY prepared,_ she considered_. But for what? What purpose? Is outer space really that cold? _Love, life, and the cosmos swirled in the apocalyptic space of her inner mind; for her, all these things were the same. _And! And what did he mean by, 'don't be hanging around any more guys... or I won't forgive you'? Forgive me for what? For hanging around guys? ...I need forgiveness for that?_

"Ahh!" Lyra cried in revelation. "Is it because he thinks I'm too STUPID to hang around other _HUMANS?_" Flabbergasted, she held her head and rattled it. "I can't believe it! What a clever insult... And I didn't figure it out until now. It's almost as if it were encapsulated by special time-release technology... Rival! Your barrage of put-downs never cease to amaze me!" She paused. "I'm kind of proud of you."

Typhlosion snapped awake from his slumber and silently watched Lyra. Unsettled by her sudden, disconnected rambling, he lowered his ears. To him, it sounded like she was comparing something to an allergy pill or whatever.

"Well it's no matter," Lyra declared, her face increasingly red. "This strange, awkward feeling is probably just my ambition seeking outlet by means of competition!"_ That's right!_ she thought._ When I battled Jasmine yesterday—these strange thoughts weren't on my mind at all! But soon afterward, I began to think about Jerkface nonstop... So... This means that I need to throw myself into more battles... And then this weird feeling will just go away!_

Blasting past the pokecenter's doors, Lyra faced the morning sunlight and took a deep breath before roaring: "Come on world, I'll have you for breakfaaast!" Typhlosion waddled up from behind, snapped his massive jaws in a yawn, and then lazily scratched his fluffy rump. With her in the lead, Lyra then marched them down the road and around the way to Mahogany Town Gym. Right as she rounded the corner, however, she smacked straight into a man's blubbery, chubby belly and bounced backwards. Twice!

"Blargh!" Lyra emitted, landing squarely on her butt.

"Huh? Another one?" the man asked, elated. "Hey! Twenty points!"

_You springy obstacle!_ Lyra thought testily._ This isn't a game!_ Rising to her feet, she tried to pass around the man but he stubbornly blocked the gym entrance. "Excuse me sir, I've gotta get in there and partake in some urgent battles!" Lyra insisted. "It's a matter of peace and contention. And bacon!"

"Huh? No can do. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bouncer." The man patted his impressive belly. "And Pryce doesn't want to see any strangers right now. That's why he hired me."

"No... no way." Lyra wilted in disbelief. "We've come so far and now it's the end? ... Isn't he a Gym Leader? ...Why won't he see anyone?"

"That's a loaded question," the bouncer answered.

"Huh?"

"You see... Awhile ago, a mysterious organization released a pokemon comic portraying certain real life people... Long story short... It became wildly adored and popular. So much so, that when it depicted Pryce as an evil, child-abducting geezer, people went crazy and took it seriously!"

"What?!"

"In other words... All week long, people have been marching in here to accuse and confront him. And terrible rumors have been spreading... It's gotten so bad, that even his own grandchildren won't visit him."

"I... I see," Lyra muttered, her face blue with unrest. "I had no idea!"_ Pokemon comic?_ she thought._ I still don't understand!_

"It's a real pity... as he's such a nice old guy. Well... he's kinda grumpy, but he lets you skate and ski on his floor," the bouncer went on, "anyway, he's cooped up in there as we speak, hunched in his recliner... muttering things about Team Rocket and scandalous doushinji... It's gotten so bad, that he hasn't changed out of his bathrobe in over a week!"

"He's become a shut-in!" Lyra exclaimed. "Or even more so an old man."

The bouncer sighed and shook his head. "Since you came this far, take the time to do some sightseeing, ok? Maybe things will resolve after awhile. You know what they say. A rumor only lasts 75 days."

"But!"

"You should head north and check out the Lake of Rage right now. OK?" He scooted her along.

Shooed away, Lyra and Typhlosion plodded off, disheartened and aching for a battle. Barely halfway through town, however, Lyra began violently punching her puffy-capped noggin. "You evil water-bottle-feelings!" she blasted, continuing her assault. "Return the controls to my BRAIN, NOW!" She was certainly delusional if she actually believed she ever had such.

"Phloooo," Typhlosion grumbled dazedly, smacking his own head as well.

"Hm? Are you alright?" Lyra stood on her tip-toes and felt his nose. She then checked his ears.

"Shuuun..." He squinted his eyes painfully. "Typhoh."

"So you too have been having weird feelings?" Lyra asked. "I see, I see! Maybe it's the air here, then..." She held her chin and nodded pleasantly at this simple explanation.

Typhlosion folded his ears and sulked as they made their way past a strange tree with straight branches of dull, oddly colored leaves.

"Hmm..." Lyra gazed up at it intently. "Or maybe it's allergies?"_  
_

They continued on their way towards the Lake of Rage toll house.

* * *

"The sales from last week's volume of Pokemon Explosion proved a _huge_ success!" a Rocket Grunt sneered, flipping through a thick comic book. "People just can't get enough of its juicy, scandalous drama... Our sales have literally 'exploded'!"

"Heh... And this toll booth ain't doing so bad, eitha'," his partner added. Their eyes rolled for the door when it clicked open. (Well not literally!)

"Oh, a nice convenient gate house for passing on through without any problems... Hm?" Lyra emitted, noticing them. "Gyack!" she choked, stepping back. "Never mind!" In spite of her remark, though, they quickly cornered her.

"Hold it riite there, missus!" the second grunt blurted. "This is a toll house, and the toll is a thousand pokedollahs."

"A thousand pokedollahs?" Lyra repeated—accent and all. Locked outside behind her, Typholosion banged on the door.

Grabbing her arms and slamming her against the wall, the grunts snatched her trainer card and swiped it through a reader.

"Huh?" the first grunt muttered, trying the card again; "It's not going through..."

"WHAT?" Lyra yelled. "But I just made a deposit!" She looked away but laughed coyly. "Oh my... I feel so embarrassed!"

"That's exactly why it's not going through!" the grunt spat. "This 'deposit' you speak of... Did it happen to be made at the, uh, First Bank of Mom?"

Lyra nodded energetically.

"Tch. I can't stand deese kids nowadays," the other grunt clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Having their mums holding their monies all safe 'n secure...!"

"Fine then! If you don't have any money, the toll is free!"

Angered, they jabbed Lyra's card back into her pocket and shoved her out the back door. Falling in the dirt with a thud—she looked up and found Typhlosion standing over her. "Oh! How'd you get on over here? You were JUST on the other side," she exclaimed with a gasp. "Witchcraft!"

Typhlosion glanced to his right to show her JUST HOW. Though the area to the side was a bit grassy, it was a complete path around the toll booth.

"So that hold-up just now was completely UNAVOIDABLE?" Lyra held her face in dismay.

"Shuuun," Typhlosion answered, kindly ignoring the fact that she'd gone and mixed-up a word.

"Man, I'm so pissed that they did that to me!" Lyra stomped. "Makes me wanna go back in and set them all on FIRE. Because no two grunts are not on fire!" She stopped._ But what if they have GUNS? _she wondered. Guns were, admittedly, her one true weakness. Nervous, she looked ahead at the long route which appeared to be packed full of people. "Wait... I see... Trainers!" Lyra feigned distraction. "Come on Not-So-Lil' Bro, no time for sticking around here, ahead is the warpath we've been seeking!"

Puffing out smoke, itching to fight, Typhlosion followed as she ran into the field.

* * *

Contorting his face in disgust, Silver straightened his leg and lifted it up from the squishy green mud. "Ugh! Now I know why they call this the Lake of Rage..." he spat; "Because walking through this gunking filth makes you RAAAAGE!" Hard, it must be said. And that's why. _This is awful,_ Silver thought, shivering under the pressure of the pelting rain. _All the trainers on the way up here were so retardedly weak... and I can't find that stupid girl anywhere! And that tall man she supposedly meets? WHERE? If he's so tall, he should stick out from the damn trees like an eyesore! Stupid creepy idiot gym leader... I bet he told me that just to piss me off... Speaking about being pissed off—Trees! Trees! They're everywhere! _

"I fricken hate nature," Silver solemnly declared, rubbing at his wet sleeves. It cannot be said enough: he was NOT happy here._ Why can't everything be paved and civilized? _he wondered. Stifling a sneeze, he lifted his wet jacket collar over his nose and exhaled into it for warmth. _Mud. And lots of trees,_ he thought on with GREAT unhappiness (yet again). _ At least they somewhat block out this absurd torrent of rain..._ He crouched down and hugged his knees for warmth. "Cold..." he murmured._ What am I even doing here? I feel like an idiot... If she saw me right now, she would definitely laugh at me. She wouldn't take me seriously at all. _This thought always plagued him whenever he landed himself into a silly predicament. Apparently! But why was it always Lyra who served as the yardstick judge and measure for his absurdity? And does such an obvious question even need to be asked?

_Not that she ever takes me seriously, anyway, _Silver thought resentfully._ But what if she were here, what would she do?_ "Probably... hug onto her pokemon for warmth," he realized aloud, folding his arms tighter. He then stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and wondered which pokeball contained the warmest of his team. "Tch..." he spat. _That's right. All my pokemon are cold-blooded, steel, or apparently dead. They won't keep me warm at all! Unless..._

Grasping Zubat's pokeball, Silver stood up and unleashed him. Zubat beat his wings, hovered in place, and gaped at Silver with his eyeless face.

Silver, holding his cold hands out, grabbed the startled creature and felt at it. "Hm..." he said, ascertaining Zubat's level of warmth._ I never knew this thing was warm-blooded. Well then... _He let go of Zubat. "Get in my jacket!" Silver yelled, unzipping it. His Zubat gaped at him in terror. "Are you deaf as well as blind?... I said 'get in my jacket'!"

"Z-zuuu," Zubat stammered, startled by this indecent proposition.

"Zoo?" Silver scowled. "What the crap does THAT mean? Listen up you little cuss. You're going into a feeding bucket AT the zoo if you don't do as I say, RIGHT NOW."

Shrieking in fear, Zubat folded his wings and Silver tucked him away. "There," Silver huffed, zipping his jacket slightly. Peeking out from it, Zubat blushed in disgrace. _Except for the fact that I look highly dumb right now, _Silver thought,_ this isn't half bad. _He continued on his way.

* * *

"Route cleared!" Lyra said, skipping joyously up the hill. "Shwaa-shing! S rank! 'Behold the brutal power of friendship!' Dununuuu!" Stopping atop Route 43's hilltop—she braced her back and laughed triumphantly into the wind. "Wah haha! I've absorbed your experience points straight into my body! Now, I am PERFECT." She gripped her fists, just to prove it. _Ah, but now, _she thought, _that these battles are over,__ my brain is scrambling again..._ She held her fists in the air, hoping to readjust her emotions but failing. _ Thinking back now... I took a detour and visited mom after my flight from the Olivine police. While I was there, she was acting suspicious... Saying things to me like 'Do you have your eye on a certain someone?' and 'Are you dating yet?' Even her usual bombardment of 'I'll save your money. Trust me!' sounded kinda unnatural... It felt like she was hiding something! She was even pushier than before! I'll say. It really makes me worried all of a sudden._

"But why am I only thinking about this now?" Lyra pondered aloud, glancing down at Dunsparce—who had taken Typhlosion's place recently so he could rest.

Dunsparce, gazing up at Lyra with sagely, swollen-looking eyes, opened her mouth slightly—almost as if in agony—and let out a slow, vapid yawn: "UNnnnn~"

"Ah! That's right. I forgot to ask mom if she heard any strange noises upstairs that other day," Lyra said. "Since Silver stole that duffel off my bed, he must've broken in at some point... Man, how did he ever get past my mom? She hears EVERYTHING." _Really... Thinking about this now really makes me want to fly home and take names!_ she thought. _In the metaphorical sense! But, Silver he... _Lyra froze. "Battles... I definitely need more battles!" she yelled, shaking the boy out of her brain. Stomping ahead, storm clouds rumbled and spewed down rain as soon as she entered the lakefront.

Taking advantage of the weather condition, Dunsparce raised her honest face to the rain—as if filming a dramatic drama scene—and became inundated by the rain, collecting water in her eyes and pouring it all down like a streaming fountain of tears. Simply put, she was enjoying herself WAY too much.

"Dunsparce... Did you do that?" Lyra questioned, already drenched from the downpour.

"Sparce," Dunsparce said. That meant 'nope.'

"Hm. Then I guess it only rains when Slowpoke yawn... Dunsparce?" Lyra asked suddenly. "Are you still mad at me for sending you away with Crystal that time?"

"...Dun."

"Hey YOU! ...Pikachu! Don't be so passive-aggressive about it!" Lyra exploded. "If you're angry at me, you should haul off and smack me in the kneecaps!"

Dunsparce seemingly considered it briefly, but instead opened her mouth and gargled rain water. Yes, way too much fun.

"It won't happen again... OK?" Lyra said. "When I first met you in Dark Cave, I really was overjoyed... You know—your cool composition got me through all of the Demon King's scary ghost stories. Even if it was because you weren't listening, it really felt like you were stronger than me... It was comforting."

Dunsparce looked away, flapping her ridiculously tiny wings in flattered embarrassment.

"So let's... make you even stronger! And if you're wondering what that has to—" Lyra said, opening her mouth to say more but then interrupted by an ear-shattering splash. "—What in the..." She and Dunsparce stood attentively and stared at the lake. The red underbelly of a beast the size of a skyscraper had raised straight up out of the water. "Is that thing actually," Lyra ejected, dwarfed by its shadow, "a Gyarados?!"

The red Gyarados sloshed about, flooding the lake past its shoreline and causing swarms of crazed Magikarp to swim furiously in the ensuing waves. One by one, the mobbing Magikarp radiated brilliantly before evolving into massive serpents, biting at each other, and slithering back under the foaming waters.

"That can't be right..." Lyra said, goosebumps raising on her cold, damp arms._ The Magikarp, they looked... kind of brain-dead! _she thought;_ Like angry zombies! _"Hm... Dunsparce, I need to switch you back," Lyra said quickly, changing the pokeball order on her belt. Recalling Dunsparce, she ran for the lake and called out her next: "Go, Anonymous!" She threw out a pokeball. A larger than usual Remoraid materialized midair and dove into the lake water. Climbing up onto his slick, baby blue back, Lyra grasped his nose horn for support. "Though your nickname wasn't nearly as French as I had anticipated, go forth! Anonymous!" Lyra blazoned, pointing into the distance. "The ocean calls our name! Let us forge ahead like a bateau of fur traders! Nothing terrible is ever done without enthusiasm! Let's GO. Miracles happen!"

"Remo!" he agreed, and to all of the above.

Water rippled at their sides as they rode ahead on the lake—and onwards in the direction of the raging red Gyarados.

_~To Be Continued~_

* * *

**This chapter explains how Silver's Zubat eventually evolves into Crobat.**

**IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. *Nudge nudge***


	29. Dragon Masters

A tidal wave streamed past Remoraid and Lyra, bobbling them around like a fishing float on the water. Remoraid, swimming harsher against the tide of the red Gyarados, buckled slightly when Lyra stood up on his back. "When we arrive, it'll be a straightaway battle," she said, adjusting her hat. "The plan is to weaken our foe, and then catch it." Violent rain slammed down on her freezing shoulders. In the waters below her, wild Magikarp smacked against one another, fighting senselessly in an effort to overcome the mysterious air enraging and confusing them.

___Once again, I'm rushing into battle,_ Lyra thought._ Because lately... there's been no other way to concentrate!_ _Against all reason, I've been thinking nonstop about Jerkface! This surge of anxiety and confusion is eating away at me. Why did he invade my brain like this? This air! The Magikarp must be fighting against an overwhelming emotion as well... Like them, I, too, want to quell it through battle! _Balancing carefully on Remoraid's slick back, Lyra dug through her bag and pulled out Eusine's white cape. Tying its red bow around her neck, she crossed her arms and gazed ahead. The cape's stiff, white fabric rippled behind her.

_Constantly I think of things I can't complete... Well it's to thrown them into the backseat!_ Lyra decided._ Like a Magikarp, I'll splash recklessly ahead and forget everything!_ "Hn—It's show time!" she yelled, raising a finger at the red Gyarados. "Son of a gun!" Angered by her rude pointing and nonsensical shout, the Gyarados snarled and leered down at her, startling Remoraid just enough to lower his defenses.

"Anonymous! Attack with the wrath of mankind's uncredited poets!" Lyra declared, throwing out her arms and then swinging a palm forward. "Charge starboard and Psybeam away!" Anonymous sharpened his eyes bravely, and flitting rapidly against Gyarados's lashing tail, he gunned ahead and blasted the towering serpent with a swirling, multicolored psychic beam.

"GYAAAAA!" the red Gyarados roared, his voice vibrating the air. Throwing back his neck and slackening his jaw, he rocked forth and regurgitated a powerful twister.

"Did he just barf up... a TORNADO?" Lyra yelled, wincing as the cyclone tore past and swept her skyward._ A whole tornado?!_ "No... no way!" she cried, still blasting off. _That's ridiculous!_ she thought, _but also, extremely awesome! _Showered by a torrent of cold water, Lyra swung her arms back and flipped upright mid-flight. As the twister devoured lake water and grew into a waterspout, it blasted her further skyward, much like a leaf on a gyser. Coughing through the spraying turbulence, she clung onto her hat and peered downwards. "That's—" she muttered, inhaling water and gagging, "—fwah!"_ I'm so far up!_ she thought, struggling to maintain her sense of direction. With an unbelieving blink, she watched the cyclone wind down below her. _And what's this?... I'm... I'm going down! _She started falling. "Anonymous! Return!" she yelled, clicking his pokeball and snatching him off the distant lake surface. "Aerodactyl! Go!" She flipped upside down, head first, but managed to unlatch his pokeball and unleash him. "Aerodactyl! Home run saaaaave—" she wailed, kicking and struggling as she fell. Aerodactyl, waggling through the storm, dove and caught her before she splattered down across the water.

Dashing along the lakefront, a tall man hurried along—his cape flying behind him with each bound._ What is that girl doing?!_ he wondered in alarm, watching her free-fall._ Did she seriously... just catch a ride on that Gyarados's Twister?_ "No time to think... She's in trouble," he exclaimed, ruffling his cape and reaching for a pokeball. "Dragonite—"

"—Aerodactyl! You're the undeniable king of the skies," Lyra gasped, catching her feet on his back and leaning in, "so there's nothing you can't do." She clutched a fist. "Yours is the might that roars through time! This is it! The power of the ancient dragons conveyed through moves..." She closed her eyes and threw her arms forward, the cliffs of Tohjo Falls flashing through her mind. "We'll make it happen! Pull back, half flap, and jet up!" Losing altitude, they slammed the lake's surface and skidded across it. "Balanciiiing!" Lyra called out, clenching her teeth and maniacally running in place. Aerodactyl—stretching his snout and wings heavenwards—flapped and rocketed up through the powerful rainfall with Lyra defying gravity and standing atop him forcefully, and by all means, by the grip of her feet alone.

_This is... it,_ the tall man thought in disbelief, his hands limp at his side. _Just as our Elder said... it's just like walking up a wall. _He had forgotten entirely about calling out Dragonite to save her._ That move was... It was sloppily done, but there's no mistake. Her footing... That was... _"Impossible! It can't be!" he yelled, holding his tensed forehead. "A secret technique passed down by our Dragon Master Clan for centuries... A technique so challenging, that even I haven't fully mastered it yet." _This is outrageous!_ With an authoritarian gaze, he concentrated on Lyra's battle, heavily furrowing his red eyebrows in furtive distress. "Her form completely lacks the proper grace and refinement," he reasoned to himself aloud, "but that stunt just now. It was unmistakably the... The Sky Dragon Balancing Step."

"Aerodactyl!" Lyra blazoned, pulling her hat down over her eyes to shield against the gusty storm. "Let's go... Like a mighty hammer of justice, way up in the sky... You will strike thunderously upon the serpent's head! And slay the bad guy! Delivering peace to our proud, tear-filled homelands, once again!" Eyes down, she crossed her arms and let her cape flutter about. "These are the blood-painted lyrics of our hearts... pounding as one."

Sputtering loudly, Aerodactyl dissolved into hysterical laughter at her expense.

"Stop making fun of me, I was being serious!" Lyra cried. "Grr! Be quiet!"

Taking advantage of Aerodactyl's sudden appearance, the red Gyarados thrashed about and hacked up yet another Twister.

"Hrah! Thunder Fang!" Lyra yelled, her cape jolting up behind her._ It's time... time to catch it!_ she thought in anticipation. Fighting her footing, she pulled an Ultra Ball from her bag, and in the ensuing moments, Aerodactyl dove down through the cyclone, screeching painfully at the attack but pressing on. Bursting out through the other side, with a righteous roar fueled by Lyra's belief in him, he clamped down on Gyarados's head and struck a critical hit. Plumes of electric bolts sizzled through the water spray and charged through Aerodactyl's fangs, shocking the enemy and overwhelming the sky line with blinding light for miles. Down into the water the red Gyarados fell, screeching and sending up an incredible tidal wave in its wicked fall.

The enemy red Gyarados had fainted.

"NOOOO—" Lyra wailed, holding her head in mortification. She nearly dropped her ultra ball. "NOOOOO—" Horrified by her failure to capture this rare and powerful creature, she stood dumbfounded as his final attack from beyond—a tidal wave—gushed over her.

For a brief moment, the rain clouds parted and sunlight poured on through._ What... __what's with this sudden good weather?_ Lyra wondered._ Are even the heavens mocking me now?_ In her overwhelming despair, she looked down._ How cruel... I couldn't capture it... _

In mysterious consolation, a red glimmer caught Lyra's eye. "Huh?" she emitted. Reaching into her front bib pocket, she pulled out a large, red scale. It shone like a piece of metal in her hand._ What is this?... Is this from the red Gyarados?_ Before she could ponder the mysterious gift any further, a pokeball shook loose from her hip and blasted open. Bursting out, Anonymous dove through the air—causing Lyra to reach out and catch the big fish with a hearty huff.

"Remo!" Anonymous trilled. Glowing bright, he began to flash and grow in Lyra's arms. _The pokemon Crystal gave me,_ she thought._ He's finally evolving into..._ She watched in amazement as Remoraid absorbed his tail and sprouted long, flexible red limbs with suction cups instead. "Octillery!" she finished her thought aloud. "Hell yeah!" _What Crystal said was right..._ she realized_; I only had to evolve it!_ She gazed upon the somewhat-hefty pokemon in her arms._ At last. I finally have... a FRENCH Octillery._

"Next stop, world domination!" Lyra said, as if the Octillery's Frenchness had ANYTHING to do with that. "Now then, Aerodactyl! Let's... HNRG... fly low," she grunted, losing her balance and falling into the water with Anonymous still in arms. Yelping when they splashed in, they resurfaced moments later with Lyra riding atop the pokemon's magnificent, shiny bald head. "Ptah!" Lyra spat. "Aerodactyl, good work," she said, ignoring the fact that he was laughing at her in his horrifically wheezy way. "Return!" Surfing along with her oversized Octillery, she hugged him tightly as he slapped the water with his tentacles and ferried her back to land. From the distant shore, however, her eyes locked with the tall man's. _Hm? I didn't notice him there before... _Lyra thought._ Is he looking at me?_ Looking over her shoulders, she checked to see if anyone was behind her (as was often the case), and affirmed that nobody was._ Nope! Then could it be... that he's intently gazing at my..._

Wrenching her eyes shut, Lyra clung to her pokemon possessively. "—My AMAZING French Octillery?...!" she finished her thought aloud. Climbing ashore moments later, Lyra found that the man was still glaring at her._ This guy certainly looks intimidating, but..._ She looked him over, judging him up from his blue military uniform to his stylish cape. _But I want to believe that he's a good guy, _she thought._ Because upon closer inspection... he's got GREAT fashion sense!_

"MAN, what you standing 'round here for?" Lyra demanded loudly—holding her arms up in a failed attempt to appear bigger.

"Hm? What?" he answered, startled by her forwardness. "I... That is... Well surely you've noticed... That this lake is full of Gyarados and nothing else," he said at last. "All the Magikarp are being forced to evolve... that's why I'm here." He crossed his arms to cement this fact.

"Oh. I saw that," Lyra said, looking over her shoulder. "There were a bunch of them biting butts back there... It was a Magikarp battle royale... It was INTENSE." When she faced back around, she found the man practically in her face. "Eyah!" She jumped back, noticing he was even more ripped and intimidating up-close._ Those muscles are real... He's like a dude from a fighting game, _she thought abruptly._ And he's going to combo-attack me...!_

"Who are you?" the man finally asked. "Did you come here because of the rumors?"

"M-me? I'm Trainer L-Lyra," she stammered, clenching her fists in determination. "No, I'm just here to battle and sightsee."

"You're Lyra?" he said, sizing her up. Lyra stiffened her back and straightened her limbs. She even flexed a bit in an effort to seem just-as-ripped. But of course that failed!

_She's even tinier up close... _the man thought to himself in disbelief._ How is it even possible for such a small girl to command a dragon with such ease? I almost feel... Insulted!_ Clenching his jaw, the dragon master narrowed his eyes and gazed off into the distance._ No... These feelings are wrong... Being jealous of a child is immature of me. At most, I should be happy for her. Yes, that's right... She was born with the skill I had to work my whole life for... This isn't a bad thing! I must ignore these pangs of crippling despair... but.  
_He glanced right, left, forward and then overhead—as if encompassed by the bleak miasma forged by hopelessness. "Regardless, I'm in despair," he lamented, landing on his hands and knees. "Being outclassed by a child in the Sky Dragon Balancing Step has left me in DESPAIR..."

"Cool, so... who are you again?" Lyra asked, despairing the man YET MORE with her incredible ignorance. She poked a finger into her ear in an effort to scratch her itching brain; she could've sworn she'd seen him from some place before. Maybe TV!

The man jumped to his feet and instantly regained his usually-dignified composure. "I'm Lance, a trainer like you," he proclaimed mysteriously. "I heard some rumors, so I came to investigate..."

"Oh. You mean the rumors about Pryce kidnapping little children?" Lyra asked, holding out her arms. "I heard those were false... Because of independently produced comic books. Though it wouldn't surprise me, because I've met worse... like the Demon King. He feasts on the dreams of innocent girls." And of course ice cream.

Lance's jaw slipped._ What is this young woman talking about?_ he wondered. _Kidnappings, comic books, dream-eating, and demon kings? Did she recently spring from a parallel universe? Well... It doesn't matter! I must discover the secret of her surprising skill... I must observe her more!_ Suddenly, with this girl's baffling appearance alone, anything seemed possible. "I saw the way you battled earlier, Lyra. I can tell that you're a trainer with considerable skill," he said, his cape springing back as if it were a sentient being. "If you don't mind, could you help me investigate?"

"Huh?" Lyra emitted, looking up at him with widened eyes. "You mean like... hang out with you?"

Lance raised his brows. "Yes. If that's what you must call it."

Lyra wrenched her eyes shut again and rattled her head around._ Hanging out... with people... Silver said not to or else, _she thought. _Hmm! But he's not the boss of me! _She put her hands on her hips in resolve._ And I want to find out what's going on with the Magikarp! I... I... _Lyra grasped her head, her mind spinning with inner turmoil as she made a decision. And so she did. "NO!" she ejected powerfully, still confused by the question prompt. Thankfully she'd have the option to select again.

Lance fell face-first to the ground.

* * *

"Lyra!" Silver called, breaking outside the bounds of the lake's forest. Racing down the mucky shoreline, he slipped hurriedly between closely muddled trees and stumps._ That was definitely her Aerodactyl,_ he thought._ And that was definitely her yelling and flying around like an idiot! What the hell was she DOING? _Stepping onto solid land once again, he jumped down over a ledge. As he landed, he heard something and stopped. Through the trees he recognized her childlike voice—accompanied by the resonance of a man's.

"Tch," Silver hissed, holding his breath. His heart almost leapt past his lungs, though it was probably just Zubat still imprisoned in his jacket._ When I met that demented juggler in town earlier,_ he thought, recalling the off-screen event,_ he passed along a message to me from Morty... This message, it was:_

_'Lyra will meet the tall man at the Lake of Rage and... this man will help her realize her new feelings!'_

"Whatever the crap THAT means!" Silver spat, crawling through the tightly growing thicket and pushing himself closer._ Though it doesn't make much sense, it still sounds ominous! What if he kidnaps her? _he wondered._ What if she disappears again?! _Sneaking several paces closer, he pressed himself flat to the ground—much to Zubat's silent gasps of suffering. In the clearing, on the other side of the forest floor to which he clung, he spied an tall young man with sharp, spiky red hair. _Who is this damn muscle freak? _Silver wondered._ Are those his ACTUAL shoulders or just padding?_ He fumed._ Of course it's just padding... HARUMPH. What a ridiculous cape! Capes..._ Silver finally noticed that Lyra was wearing hers. Rustling gently off her shoulders, its majestic form summoned up the memory of how she'd aggressively snagged it from Eusine back at the lighthouse. _Does she really like capes that much? _Silver wondered. "Idiot," he muttered, biting his lip and watching them infuriatedly.

Lyra tilted her head up—visibly conflicted about something. "I meant," she said, and loud-enough this time for Silver to hear.

"Hm? Are you going to help me?" the man asked her.

"Yes," she answered. "I changed my mind... What you said about them being forced bothers me. And this..." She held out her pokegear and turned on its radio. A loud squealing erupted from it's speaker.

"Hm. So you noticed," the man said.

"Of course," Lyra said, staring at her feet and remembering the Rocket Grunt who mind-controlled the Eevees back at the Dance Theatre. And of course, the strange technology in that involved Earth Badge.

"Excellent!" Lance replied, apparently relieved. "Yes, it seems that the lake's Magikarp are being forced to evolve... A mysterious radio broadcast coming from Mahogany is the source."

Silver listened warily. _Could it be Team Rocket? _he wondered._ But I destroyed their machine! They shouldn't be able to broadcast anything now, so what in the..._

"I'll be waiting for you, Lyra," the man said, unfolding his arms and patting her shoulder. Marching off, he flung back his cape and sent its black form soaring effortlessly behind him.

Lyra gazed at this, awestruck and moved into vigorously chewing on her pillowy hat. _Such fabric! Such billow! _She escaped into her fantastical thoughts concerning capes._ How does one command a cape like so?_ Lyra wondered in awe, observing Lance and nearly causing her poor hat to screech in pain._ I must... learn... how to do that... _Putting on a strained face, she threw back her cape. It flapped once and fell flat against her back. Unsatisfied, she grunted and tried again. And again. She gazed longingly into the distance. Then tried again.

_What is she LOOKING at?_ Silver wondered, clenching his teeth and fuming with jealousy._ Is she THAT impressed by that cosplayer? What a moron! Looks aren't everything! I bet I could knock him out in an INSTANT. And what's with that stupid, dazed look on her face?!  
_

"Lance. He's..." Lyra murmured to herself in sudden realization, "like a super hero." She re-donned her chewed-up hat and huffed resolutely._ Looks like... I might have to save __the world for real!_ Her eyes searched the skies past Mahogany Town as she became aware of the fact that as of right now, she was among the few tasked heroes keeping Team Rocket in check.___ The bad guys. They always lose. Isn't that what you once said, Dad? You knew... crime is a wayward path. Isn't that why you_ wanted to become a hero? No... You did.  


Without further hesitation, Lyra careened after Lance, her Octillery slithering after her.

Quaking furiously, Silver slammed his battered hands into the earth._ Did you think I was kidding,_ he thought,_ when I said I wouldn't forgive you? _Embittered by his rival's betrayal, he got up and followed her through the trees.

_~To Be Continued~_

* * *

**He's an unconventional stuffed-shirt wannabe knight in cosplay. She's a kleptomaniac battle junkie with the soul of a mighty warrior. They fight crime!**


	30. We'll Be Super Heroes

With his cape sailing behind him, Lance slammed the door open and stomped inside the souvenir shop.

"Hey! Watch it!" the shopkeeper warned, adjusting his round sunglasses– eyeing Lance– and stepping beside the shop's big golden cabinet.

"Watch it? You fiends? Of course. I have been," Lance accused; "I've been watching for some time... This shop, the strange radio waves... and the illegal trafficking of slaughtered Gyarados."

"Wow... You have a big imagination," the shoper keeper said with a confident smirk. "Don'tcha think your time would be better spent in a comic book store... Or a costume shop?" His partner– a Black Belt in a flimsy white karate gi– laughed lowly and stood up from the box of mushrooms he was sorting.

"Your true natures are clear. I've let this go on for long enough," Lance said, stepping forward and leading his hulking Dragonite through the door. "Butchering dragons... It's a crime worse than murder! I won't hold back against you, _Team_ _Rocket_." He blocked them from escaping.

"WHAT?" the Black Belt growled, reaching into his pocket and lifting out a weapon. "You–"

Walking in the scene– Lyra paused in the doorway– startled by the action unfolding before her.

"Dragonite," Lance roared, raising his arm in command. "Hyper Beam."

Bellowing deeply, the dragon pokemon opened his mouth and fired a flashing energy blast at the Black Belt. Screaming intensely, the man slammed against the wall– sliding down and dropping to the floor unconscious. The shopkeeper by the cabinet trembled, stricken speechless by his bodyguard's knockout.

"WHOA," Lyra ejected, holding back Typhlosion with a raised arm. "Holy cream puffs... What the barbecue fudge?"

Hearing this, Lance noticed the girl. _So she finally arrived,_ he thought; _And it seems she's took this situation out of context... Typical for a child!_ Walking over to the terrified girl, he loomed over her and– with an unsmiling face– observed her for a long while._ She's brave for actually following me here... I'll give her that much. But that frozen expression on her face is comical. It almost... makes me want to bully her._

"What took you so long, Lyra?" Lance said, scrunching his impressive forehead and glaring down at her. Sternly.

"W-what took me so long?" she stuttered, her brown eyes widening with childlike fear.

Lance nearly snorted in amusement._ This is weird... _he realized, coughing._ Why am I picking on a little girl? Am I still jealous of her? Impossible... I'm only testing her! Yes. This is just to see if her skills are for real... To find out if she truly knows the secrets of the Dragon Clan._

"Well... I took so long because," Lyra began– her face petrified; "Because my clothes and things got soaked at the lake... So Typhlosion and I... we tried fire! But then we used too much and made a huge mess."

Typhlosion held his head down, ashamed by his mentioned failure.

Lance blinked unwittingly._ You 'tried fire'? _he pondered._ What do you mean you 'tried fire'? You speak of it as if it were some new, miracle product..._ "Just as I thought," he said, deliberately ignoring her. "The strange radio signal is coming from here." Facing away from her, he stiffened his shoulders and smuggled out laughter.

"Oh... uh, right," Lyra said, disconcerted by his rudeness. She was ALMOST certain that he was laughing at her misfortune.

Motioning his right arm forward, Lance summoned both Lyra to follow him. Approaching the shop's gaudy, golden cabinet, Lance faced the shopkeeper and leaned over him._ Strong or not, Lyra is still a child... _Lance considered, furrowing his brow and scowling deeper. _So I should show a little restraint in front of her. Therefore, I'll only break this man's nose._

Sensing Lance's brutal intentions, the shopkeeper let out a sharp cry and tumbled away, crawling behind the counter for refuge.

"Sweet beans!" Lyra exclaimed, tugging down her hat in awe. _Lance, he... He has the power of silent persuasion! _she thought.

"The stairs are right here," Lance said, placing a hand on the cabinet's golden side and slightly pushing. Unexplainably, his slight push transformed into a full-body shove, which sent the bulky cabinet flying across the floor, revealing a hidden stairway underneath it.

Typhlosion's muzzle gaped open in stupefaction. This Lance guy was truly tough.

"Superhuman strength... a cool outfit, a cape, and a secondary power," Lyra considered aloud, hunching close to her pokemon, "He's definitely a super hero. Though he's only lacking one thing..."

Typhlosion glanced incredulously at his trainer. "Ty pho pho..." he intoned, sharpening his eyes.

"Nooo," Lyra said, throwing up her arms. "I meant facial adornment. You know, a ma–"

"–Lyra, we should split up to check this place." Lance interrupted her; "I'll go first." Without much more warning, he charged down the dark stairway– his Dragonite fluttering after him.

"Ah... WAIT–" Lyra yelled desperately, waving her arms around. _You can't go in like that!_ she thought;_ Not when you're missing such an important accessory!_

"What is it?" Lance demanded, returning up the steps. He stopped and found the girl digging through her messenger bag. Pulling out a pink, heart-shaped jewelry box, she pried off its plastic lid and mumbled strangely to herself.

"Lyra. There's no time to waste," Lance scolded her. Slightly irritated, he looked away._ That startled me..._ he thought in relief. Sensing the girl's close presence, however, his relief vanquished and he snapped to attention. "Huh?" he said, finding that Lyra was holding a pair of Cool Specs up to him. Unsure of her intentions, he remained motionless. _Sunglasses?_ he thought, not wanting to take them;_ But we're going underground..._

"You must've been planning on keeping silent about it longer, but it's no use. I'm already aware of your secret," Lyra said with a smug air, sending Lance into a panic.

_My secret?...! _He trembled in alarm.

"That is– I already know that you're _actually_ a super hero," she said with a straight face; "and that you're testing me to see if I'm sidekick material." Her words carried a great seriousness that had initially inspired, but then consequently disturbed Lance.

"Yes... You've discovered my secret," Lance answered, sweat beading down his forehead. "I'm stunned by your deductive powers." _Incredible,_ he thought;_ She's SO full of nonsense, that it's writing itself into reality._

"Great!" Lyra smiled, standing on her tip toes to overcome Lance's tallness. Lifting the Cool Specs way up over her head, she struggled to place them onto his face. "Make sure you wear these–" she said in determination, tipping off balance; "Because they'll hide your identity!" Miraculously latching the glasses onto his ears, she gasped and stumbled backwards. As she fell– Lance grabbed her– pulling her against his stomach. Feeling her plunk against him, his insides lurched and a shock wave fluttered all the way up his chest.

_What is wrong with me? _he wondered, immediately letting go with this thought. He glanced at Lyra's upturned face through his darkened shades.

"Now about this investigation..." Lyra began, folding out an identical pair of shades and donning them. "This is reminiscent of something I encountered in southern Johto– a wad of gangsters dealing in slowpoke tails. These guys are criminals like poffins are pastries." Experimenting with the position on her sunglasses, she kept reflecting light at obnoxious angles– and posing grandly. Irritated by her showy behavior, Typhlosion smacked her head. "Ow! Right right–" Lyra hurried on, speaking earnestly once again. "–I mean this is most definitely the work of Team Rocket... And also, I'll do my best as your sidekick."

"I... see," Lance said with an blank stare, his limbs locking up and his heart pounding out of control. _Weird girl, don't be making a game out of this! _he thought irritatedly; _What's wrong with me? Am I having a heart attack? But I've been eating healthy and I'm not that old... _"Let's hurry then–" he said abruptly, fleeing back down the stairs. Appalled by his sudden feelings for the young girl, he ran far ahead to gain distance from her.

_This is unacceptable! I'm twenty-three years old... She's probably a preteen! A mistake. _

_This is a mistake! _He grasped his cape collar and tugged it closer. _Yes, that's it... I shouldn't jump to conclusions. I'm most likely mistaken about all of this... Because my dragon training has always taken first priority, I'm untrained when it comes to love._

_So it's more than possible that this feeling is entirely innocent. She's adorable and short. Anyone would think so. _Hurrying ahead, he lightly touched the sunglasses she had forced on him. _And she has an excellent sense of style, too. _

Chasing away his scattered thoughts, Lance furrowed his eyebrows to regain concentration. "Dragonite, keep an eye out for traps," he ordered his pokemon, the both of them disappearing around a corner. Their feet pounded heavily on the metal floor tiles as they vanished into the distance.

"Hey... Lance?" Lyra called after him, stopping before a glassy-eyed Persian statue. Its red orb-like eyes glowed in response. "He left us behind," she realized aloud, turning to Typhlosion. In the dull silence of the basement hallway, her muddled thoughts once again began seeping through her head. She would have to keep battling to chase them away.

* * *

Standing outside the souvenir shop, Silver tucked his hands into his pockets, staring up at the unsightly appearance of a nearby tree. Examining the evergreen's brown, metallic trunk and antennae-like protrusions, he let out a scoff. _This tree is so obviously fake; it wouldn't even fool a pokemon,_ he thought._ And it... definitely has the stench of Team Rocket on it!_

"So those idiots are still screwing around, huh?" Silver said. _Even though I thought I destroyed their only machine... Did that cosplayer take Lyra inside here?_ he wondered, thinking of the caped man at the lake.

"Unbelievable," Silver said. "What kind of adult invites a YOUNG GIRL into such a DANGEROUS place?" Inexplicably angry, he kicked at the faux tree– pounding and warping its metal base with his heel. Stomping off its aluminum branches and bashing the tree lopsided– the sound of his onslaught echoed into the distance.

Popping out of the shop, the shopkeeper propped the door open and momentarily went back inside before dragging out his accomplice. Pulling the unconscious Black Belt through the dirt by his legs, the shopkeeper jumped when he finally heard the racket. "HEY KID. What the hell are you doing?" He yelled at Silver.

Stopping, Silver turned around, slowly, and faced. "Destroying your shit," he said with a scowl. This ensured a whole moment of bloated silence.

"... ...Geez. What's with all these redheads today..." the shopkeeper whimpered, hurriedly dragging off his partner.

"Humph! What a wimp," Silver said dismissively, giving the tree one last good kick. _Redheads huh? _he thought, suddenly adverse the idea of being compared to that cosplaying man. Stowing his temper behind a solemn face, Silver strode forth and marched inside the drafty souvenir shop. Immediately, he noticed the golden cabinet and its exposed, underground stairway. "They must be down there already," he said, hurrying down the steps.

Descending into the basement's dimly lit hallway, Silver eyed his surroundings. On the walls overhead, ancient fluorescent lamps hummed and flickered familiarly. _I've been here before,_ he realized after some reminiscing. _Typical... There's not a hidden basement around that I haven't been crammed or detained in. My old man always enjoyed hiding like a coward... _

Off alongside the wall, a star-shaped burn mark caught Silver's eye– along with an area of sunken floor. _What the hell happened here? _he wondered, hunching toward it. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the sunken area had a small, distinctly human-shaped dent in it. "Lyra tracks," he concluded._ They're freshly made, too. That means she can't be too far away now... _

Eagerly, Silver ran down the winding hall, his footsteps clanking heavily on the metallic floor.

"Uwa!" a man cried from far off; "Get off me!" Knowing that this man's cries of pain was likely caused by a common foe, Silver took off for its source even faster.

"Heheheh..." Lyra laughed sinisterly. "Not until you tell me all about that Earth Badge. I want to know everything." Her voice was even closer now.

"Eyah! I don't know, I'm nothing but a scientist– NO– not that!"

Lyra breathed out heavily: "Aaaaaah~"

"Hng– stop it, please... I can't take it anymore!"

"What... the," Silver said, not knowing what to make of Lyra's strange breathing noises. _WHAT is she doing to that man?  
_he wondered horrifically. Reaching the hall's corner, he willfully peeked past a door frame and into a large computer room. On the floor before him was Lyra, legs bent, and perched atop a struggling scientist. Behind her stood her faithful fire starter, Typhlosion, who watched intently– like a director watching his own snuff film.

"The hell?" Silver whispered._ This looks wrong in so many ways. _

"The grunt at the Ecruteak Dance Hall... he had a badge that could make pokemon do his bidding," Lyra said, shaking the frail man. "Give me some answers or I'll make you SCREAM."

"I already said–" the man gasped; "I don't know anything about that!"

Growling like an animal, Lyra leaned over the man and heavily breathed into his face– fogging up his glasses.

"Nooooo!" he wailed, tormented by his defiled vision.

Silver held his face, unable to believe what he was seeing. _That's her idea of torture?..._ he wondered.

"I could do this ALL DAY," Lyra threatened, grabbing the scientist by his lab coat. She shook him.

"OKAY, I-I'll tell YOU," he wailed, hyperventilating; "J-just stop doing that!"

"Hm! A wise decision."

"T-that badge... only the Executives should have it in their possession, I don't know how a grunt got it! But it contains an offshoot technology that was discovered after perfecting the RAGE waves..."

"Offshoot technology? I don't understand! What exactly does it do?"

"It allows you to... overwrite a pokemon's brain-waves with your own! With it, the Boss planned to take over Kanto and beyond... He had great plans for a cave in Cerulean City... But you know the rest... Champion Red broke us up and chased him into hiding!"

"Is that true?" Lyra said, noticeably bewildered into contemplation. "Then there's just one more thing that I wanna know... Why was this technology encased in an Earth Badge?"

The scientist threw back his head and laughed insanely. "Stupid kids these days!" he said; "Don't you know anything? The Boss... He was Viridian City's Gym Leader at the time! This is common knowledge! Three years ago, the whole truth about the great Giovanni was publicly exposed!"

"Giovanni?" Lyra gasped. _That's right..._ she thought in frozen shock;_ Three years ago, I saw a man everywhere on the news...An sharp-looking man with inhuman eyes._

_That was soon after Dad died. I didn't pay much attention to the world at the time... but I noticed that this 'Giovanni' helped everyone forget about Dad. _

_Reporters stopped harassing Mom... People stopped gossiping about Dad's "criminal past" and how he "destroyed his company"._

_I was actually grateful._

"I do know who that is," Lyra remarked, letting go of the scientist and standing up.

Watching her, Silver retreated back around the corner and slunk against the wall broodingly. _Of course,_ he thought; _Who hasn't heard about Giovanni? The boss of the weak and pathetic Team Rocket. The once-great man who ran away and abandoned everything... _

_Lyra, what would you do if you discovered that he's my father? What would you even think?_

"There's nothing left for us here," Lyra said to Typhlosion. "Let's go."

Instinctively, Silver darted back through the hall and crouched behind a stack of cardboard boxes. Moments later, he watched her walk by. _No... I shouldn't care what you think about him,_ he thought;_ You have no right to hold his crimes against me... After all, your own father was just as ridiculous. I could easily attack you with this fact if you ever snubbed me._

Listening to her fading footsteps, Silver checked his surroundings before moving. Resentfully, he kicked a box away and stood up. _But this line of thinking feels... repulsive,_ he realized with disgust;_ Lyra...__ I could do a hundred cruel things to you. And for the same reason that I can't. I don't want you to ever forget about me...  
_

"This is bad," The scientist whimpered, violently clacking on his keyboard.

_What now?_ Silver thought, stealing a look back around the door frame. Watching the scientist's side profile, he saw him adjust his computer monitor before sitting still in front of it.

"Hey, how's it going?" another man's voice sang out from the computer speakers. A crash of tiny, discordant guitar notes dinged out as well.

Silver cringed in recognition. _It's that irresponsible Executive, Petrel.  
_

"Sir, this is no time to be playing your ukulele," the scientist rushed; "Pests have infiltrated the hideout!"

"Uh huh... Just set out more traps," Petrel said, seeming to not care. More babyish notes plucked out from the speakers.

"Set out more traps? More traps?...! Sir, this was a _ninja_ hideout! Every trap in existence that can be set out _has_ been set out! Spikes, darts, rolling logs, nets, knives, mines... Some man in a cape disarmed every single one, and now a little girl is taking out all our sentries! This operation is on the verge of ruin– ruin– ewaaaah!"

"Wow, Gregg. You need to calm down. How about we go out for drinks tomorrow night?"

Scientist Gregg pounded the keyboard with childish excitement. "Gyah! This is why our operations always fail–" he shrieked; "–you never take them seriously! And I just caught wind of your little escapade in Ecruteak. What the hell, Petrel?...!"

"Escapade in Ecruteak. Hm... Oh yeah. That?" Petrel chuckled lowly. "I was developing a new, aggressive character. A man with a tragic back story who would do anything for fun... I gave myself a cool name and everything. This character... I _became_ him."

"No. NO. You threw on a Grunt uniform, acted as usual, and took the Kimono Girls hostage," the scientist said, collapsing his head on his desk. "Then you revealed the Earth Badge prototype to a CHILD. She's here now, by the way... I... I just wish you would stop it with all this actor nonsense."

"Ah. So that's what you're SO upset about! I remember that girl... Lyra, was it? She was quite a handful on stage. Heavier than she looks, too."

"No kidding..."

"I'll send out more guards, ok? So don't sweat it. It's all good."

Listening to Petrel's sleazy voice, Silver bared his teeth in disgust. _Lyra met Petrel in Ecruteak?_ he wondered;_ ...But when? _

"Anyway, I just came up with a new song," Petrel announced, plucking unwholesome, toy notes on his ukulele.

"Sir, I really can't stress enough how this is–"

"Meha meha nooha, I'm disguised like the kahuna," he sang hoarsely, plucking the strings and sending out sour notes. It sounded exactly like a Lapras struggling to tear rubberbands off its neck. But behind his stupid behavior lurked an evil intention; a cruel desire to torture the poor scientist?...!

"–Hail Giovanni!" a Murkrow cried in the background.

"Stop it! Just stop! You're defiling the Boss's supreme image!" Gregg said, rolling back in his swivel chair.

"So I really look like him this time? Great! You have no idea how much wax I combed into this wig..."

Unwilling to bear Petrel's insolence any longer, Silver jumped up and ran off in search of Lyra.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

Merry Christmas! Pixiv pictures for ya:

Remove asterisks *

Lance:  
www.*pixiv* member_illust.*php?mode=medium&illust_id=12036488

Silver and Lyra:  
www.*pixiv* member_illust.*php?mode=medium&illust_id=6649932

www.*pixiv* member_illust.*php?mode=medium&illust_id=7447039


	31. Lanceman and Lyra

Running down the hall, Silver stopped when he heard Lyra's footsteps– and the sound of an object swishing through the air. Lashing out his arm, he caught the small object between his fingers. _So t__hat cape-wearing weirdo... disarmed all the traps, huh?_ Silver nearly laughed, staring at the poison-tipped dart in his hand. _Like hell!_ He discarded the dart.

Glimpsing around the corner, he caught sight of Lyra's springy pigtails. _That was too close,_ he thought;_ It almost hit her... _

_However... If I hadn't caught that dart, what would've happened instead? _Considering it for a few more moments, Silver guessed something completely stupid– like Lyra catching it proudly in her teeth. He could almost see it. _That sounds just like her, too._ He held his forehead in disbelief. _So stupid_... _Why am I even imagining it?_ _ These days, I'm seeing her in my mind even more... Yes. And if I remember correctly, this didn't become a problem until that night some time ago._..

Though the memory had been haunting Silver ever since, he only just now realized it– that if he hadn't tried robbing Lyra at the Union Cave pokecenter back then, he would've never become THIS obsessed.

..._How long has it been since I've kissed her?_ he wondered suddenly. Subconsciously, he felt that her actions that night had initiated some kind of promise to him– one that was making him become impatient. Too unnerved by this sudden realization, he couldn't bring himself to jump around the corner and shout an obscenity at her– even though he REALLY wanted to.

_Why? _Silver thought, flustered and clinging to the wall for life. _Why am I thinking about this NOW?_

_The last time I kissed her was that time when she was drunk in Ecruteak..._ he thought– completely ignoring his intention to STOP;_ But even then, well... that wasn't a real kiss, it was just me chewing on her forehead._ _Tch. I swear. I almost kissed her the other day... But then she gave that dumb ass hero speech and headbutted me in the face–_

Painfully recalling that memory, he covered his face with his hands. After recounting all those details, he finally became aware of how screwed-up their relationship really was.

_Well of course it's screwed-up. We're rivals, that's how it SHOULD be,_ Silver concluded, his attention shifting around the corner once again and focusing on Lyra's back. For some reason, a disgustingly slithery tentacle pokemon (at least in his opinion) was now at her side. It was an Octillery.

_Her taste in pokemon... is truly awful, _he thought critically._  
_

"Hey!" a man roared, calling attention to himself. "Intruder! Who are you?" he demanded fearsomely, his footsteps clanking down the distant hall. Coming into view, he stopped– his black jumpsuit and gray vinyl boots revealing him to be just another Rocket Grunt.

"Hwa?" Lyra emitted, unsure of whom he was addressing. She pointed at her nose for clarification.

"Yeah, you!" the rocket grunt confirmed; "I said WHO are you?"

"That..." Lyra began, snapping her overall straps (JEAN ROMPER STRAPS!) in embarrassed indecision. "Well..." She actually hadn't thought of her super hero name yet, so she was still waffling on what to tell him.

She decided it was best to just be honest.

"–I actually don't know!" she blazoned magnificently.

"BRAT! That's nothing to BOAST about," the Rocket Grunt yelled. "Grr. Trying to make a fool out of us? That's it... Now it's on–" He pitched his pokeball down, sending out a gas-spewing Koffing.

"You're right! A true super hero must always be prepared!" Lyra agonized, smacking her puffy hatted noggin. _I'll reflect upon this later, but for now... s_he decided, latching onto her Octillery's dome-shaped head. "Let's ride on! _Allez_ Anonymous! _Le surf_. _MERDE._"

"Hah?" the grunt said, glancing around as the floor tiles beneath him began to rumble. Drumming and clashing as the popped up– they flew away as water spewed out and flooded the entire hall. "WAAAAGH–" The man and his pokemon blasted backwards, swept away by the undertow.

"That might be what one calls... flood damage," Lyra said, floating atop Octillery's head and watching the water recede away. "My comrade! I know you're not wishy-washy, and that you're always immersed during a spat! But your battling style just _blew me out of the water_." In her eyes, all emergencies were somehow ripe for horrible puns.

"Octillerghree," Octillery sputtered with a deep man voice. It was a voice NOT his own, but it really was _actually_ his voice. If that makes sense.

"You're so cute!"

"Oct oct oct–" He was suddenly very inquisitional about her usage of his language.

"Oh... sorry. It's 'cause I used a pocket dictionary."

"Oooct..."

Confounded by their conversation, Silver frowned and looked down at the tops of his wet boots.

_How can she know what it's saying? _he wondered; _It's just retardedly repeating its name!_

_God, I hate her. Why can't I move?_

Though Silver definitely wanted to punish Lyra for running off, to Team Rocket's HQ, and with some cosplayer, he was too afraid to do it. And though he wanted to be the one to destroy Team Rocket, he was only ineffectively trailing behind. Hearing her stomping down the stairs, he dawdled out into the hallway.

_Useless..._ Silver criticized himself;_ This is no time to be feeling ashamed... When did I become so whiny?_

"Forget this!" he said, kicking the wall. _I can't stand myself! _

When you hold yourself in such low esteem, it's hard not to kick something.

"Waaah!" a flamboyant voice squealed from within the wall, causing Silver do a double-take.

_What the..._ Silver stood back. Mutating his surprise into anger, he bared his teeth. _And now,_ e_ven the wall is mocking me! _he thought senselessly. Pausing, he stepped away from it in suspicion. _Wait a minute..._ he thought;_ That's right, there's a secret crawl space here... And that voice just now... it was annoyingly familiar. Who's the jerk in the wall? _

Kicking forward, Silver dropped his heel through the wall, rending off chunks of chalky plasterboard and powdering the air with dust.

"Eee!" a voice screamed– followed by a man sliding out on his back and four pokeballs toppling down over him. Silver studied the man's spiky blond hair and garishly red slacks and cape.

"You're... that juggler idiot," Silver noted after some contemplation; _The one who started up Lyra's stalker fan club!_

"Irwin!" the man corrected him, sitting up and throwing his hands in the air. "It's Juggler Irwin!"

"Whatever," Silver said, stepping past him and checking inside the damaged wall. "That creepy gym leader... he's not here?"

"You mean Morty?" Irwin asked, holding his chin in thought. "He's not creepy! Well... he has some QUESTIONABLE hobbies, but he's a really chill guy."

"They must be FREAKISH hobbies if EVEN YOU question them," Silver blasted, vehemently pointing at the juggler. "Phone Stalker Irwin!"

"Stop painting us as the bad guys!" Irwin burst into tears.

Revealing their true forms, the four pokeballs responded to the juggler's sobbing by noisily chanting their names ad nauseam. "Voltorb, Voltorb, Voltorb–" they droned, circling Silver and rolling counter clockwise.

"BAAAAWW– shut those things up!" Silver yelled, holding his ears. _This is why pokemon shouldn't be allowed to talk!_

"Voltorb, don't waste your energy on that guy!" Irwin stood up, wiping away his tears. Reopening his eyes, he witnessed Silver escaping through the freshly broken wall. "Hey, that's _my_ hiding place!" the juggler whined, climbing in after him. "It's my own secret highway~"

"Don't follow me!" Silver snapped, poking his head into the wall and checking out the passage further. On both sides were holes into the massive air duct, and straight ahead was a crawl ramp which lead further underground.

"I said it's MY OWN seeeecret highway!"

"Like HELL it is."

"Oww, don't shove, you'll break my camera!"

"Is that why you're here? To snap more candid shots? You perverted president!"

"That's Mr. Fan Club President to you! And why are _you_ here then, hmm? You can't answer, can you?"

"Tch... Shut up! More importantly, why isn't that creepy gym leader here?" Silver scolded, trying to crawl as far ahead of the juggler as possible. "Didn't he say some crap prophecy would be fulfilled by Lyra meeting that... tall cosplayer?"

"I _don't_ know what you speak of!" Irwin denied and magically twinkled, shrugging his shoulders just for the sake of being annoying.

"I _will_ kick you!" Silver yelled violently, rearing back his leg.

"Ow! Oww–"

"Fricken' juggler! Die!"

Thumping around and yelling, the two fought inside the narrow wall. Startled, Irwin's Voltorb resolved the situation by screeching tinnily and zapping the two stalkers with electricity.

"... ...Morty," Irwin gasped, twitching from paralyzation. "He had to leave. Because his own fan club...found him."

"What the... hell?" Silver said, shaking away his blurry vision. _Who would form a fan club for that dipstick? He's a pompous weirdo and he looks like a hairstylist! ...Unbelievable._

Silver clearly had issues with hair styling.

"Yes, Morty had to go back to his gym and hide." Irwin sat back up, blinking dazedly until he regained his chipper attitude. "You know! There's a reason for why he keeps the place dark and filled with old ladies. Scares away the fangirls, or so he says."

"Hmph, what a wimp." Silver crawled on. "And there's NO way he's that popular with girls. Lyra alone goes into convulsions when she even just hears his name–"

"–There's a chute ahead!" Irwin rejoiced, his shrill voice murdering the peace.

"I know– just shut up!_"_

"Silver boy! You're such a liar!"

"If you call me that again... I'll force your _entire_ head through this vent," Silver threatened, pointing at its narrow grating.

"You're SO mean!"

Sliding down the chute, Silver stopped at the nearest vent. Glimpsing through its bright slivers of light, he recognized a hallway and the distinct shape of his rival's white mushroom hat.

Lyra was sitting down on the floor and holding a golden drawstring pouch in hand. "Wow, what is this stuff?" she asked, poking the pouch. "It healed my whole team right up."_  
_

Settling between her and his Dragonite, Lance knelt on the floor, his black cape blanketing the floor behind him. "It's a rare medicine called 'sacred ash'. Legend says that it was furnished by the fire of a rainbow feathered god," he explained, ambiguously offering her his hand. "They say a god, but it's probably just a pokemon... Regardless, its healing purposes are invaluable."

Staring at his open hand in confusion, Lyra finally placed the pouch in it. Slouching back, cross-legged, she then reached an arm around her squishy Octillery and gazed up at the ceiling in mystification. _Pokegods and rainbows, huh?_ she contemplated with a slight huff. _That reminds me of something the Demon King would say..._

"You sound tired, Lyra. We should rest for a bit," Lance said, leaning against the wall and pushing out one of his long legs. He then exhaled. Heavily. One would almost think he was troubled about something.

Taking his advice, Lyra dug through her bag, pulled out a can of lemonade, and popped it open. "Hm, I just remembered something," she said, pointing upwards while holding the can. "I need a name... for my alter ego... You have a name too, right?" She studied Lance with eager eyes but found him mostly unreadable. His black Cool Specs made him that much more mysterious and resolute. They also covered half his face.

"Alter ego... Name?" he repeated. "No, I don't." He frowned slightly. "But is that... really necessary?"

"Of course! We must hide our secret identities in order to protect our loved ones!" Lyra contended, standing on her knees and raising her fists in a rallying motion. Octillery slithered away from her, somewhat disturbed. "From here on out, you'll be known as... Lance Man! And I'll be Super Lyra."

"Those names... conceal us even _less_ than these shades do..."

"Fine then! You'll be Lancer Dragoon and I'll be Super Jump Girl."

"What?"

"Come on, Lancer Dragoon." Lyra faced him, her sunglasses shining like a mirror. "You need a badass one liner, like... 'Justice rains from the heavens and lances my foes! Spear cavalier, Lancer Dragoon!' and... 'Jump! Jump! The Dragon Knight! Thou be harpooned.' for some sizable flair when making an entrance."

"Pff-ffft–" Lance covered his face with his hands, battling to hold back his hysterics.

"Are you LAUGHING at me?...!" Lyra demanded, pummeling the ground. "I'm being serious here!" Hurt and insulted, she watched him burst into uproarious laughter.

"No more..." He doubled over, choking. He collapsed on his face.

Lyra jumped up in shock, spilling half her lemonade. "Uwa! Are you okay?" she yelled, patting him on the back.

Silver– fully revolted by two heroes' burgeoning companionship– cringed at their stupidity. _Lyra's super hero fixation... it's at a clinical level!_ he thought, shaking with contempt. _And what's with those cheap matching sunglasses? Were the capes not tacky enough? _

_Lyra and that guy... Laughing and smiling together... Sharing their terrible sense of style together... They're like those idiot couples who wear UGLY MATCHING SHIRTS.  
_

Silver held his head and raged. "Idiots!" he said; "It's UNBEARABLE." Not that he secretly wished to wear ugly matching shirts with her or anything.

"This is a good shot!" Irwin chirped, pushing his camera up against the vent and quickly snapping photos. "It has a 'hurt and comfort' aspect..."

"Eyagh!" Silver pushed away, insanely annoyed and on the verge of tearing out his hair. _I want to kick him but I'm too upset to move..._ He folded his arms and sulked, suddenly overcome with hopelessness._ ...Am I just giving up?_

Turning his hands over, Silver observed their bloodied backs in the vent's thin light. Looking at the ugly, whitened tears of dead skin, he realized that his collection of scars would only grow. _I really busted up my hands back at Mt. Mortar..._ he thought;_ But that's because I was relentless, as always. That creepy idiot gym leader...Didn't he once say that Lyra liked that in me? _

_...She has terrible taste.  
_

"I know! I'll give you a drink," Lyra said suddenly, setting down her lemonade can and rummaging through her bag once more.

"That sounds good... though. I'm actually fine now," Lance coughed into his hand. "So you don't have to–"

"I want to! Because you shared that rare medicine with us! Besides, I'm your sidekick on this mission," Lyra said, unzipping a compartment on her beige traveling bag. She froze in place. For several moments.

"...What is it, Lyra?" Lance asked at last.

"Ran out," she managed to say, her mouth gaping in mortal shame. "I ran out of drinks." _... I don't even have fresh water, _she realized.

"That's OK." Lance smiled.

Lyra fell on her hands and knees regardless. "Offering something I don't have... and drinking one anyways," she agonized quietly, her face turning blue. "A freeloader... a failed sidekick." Her head sunk impossibly low; the aura of a loser's regret exuding from her back.

_What a bad vibe..._ Lance shrank back, fully alarmed. _She has the aura of a cursed artifact!  
_

"...H-here," he said apprehensively, taking her can of lemonade. "There's some left in here. May I have it? I'd be refreshed by just this alone."

Lyra held her head in horror. "But it's USED!" she decried.

_Used? That's an odd way to put it..._ Lance thought, smiling at her nonetheless. "It's not that big of a deal," he said hesitantly, downing the lemonade in several large gulps.

Irwin pulled away from the vent and set down his camera, too shocked to continue shooting. "It's an indirect kiss..." he announced.

"NO it's NOT," Silver argued. "Those are stupid. Really stupid! You have to be delayed in the brain to believe in them!"

"Her and him... already sharing drinks," Irwin sighed sadly, holding his forehead. "I just don't know how to feel about this development..."

"Indirect kisses don't exist!" Silver repeated, unable to cope. "They're stupid!"

"Yes, you've already said that."

"I'll kill him," Silver decided, crawling forth at a rapid pace. _That cosplayer was already dead..._ he thought;_ 35 minutes ago!_

"But–"

"Don't follow me!"

* * *

"To unlock the transmitter room... We need someone's voice?" Lyra echoed, looking up at Lance. "Whose?"

"The name of the person is Petrel," Lance revealed, folding his arms tightly, "the Team Rocket Executive!"

"That's..." Lyra stopped, her memories recollecting slowly: _No, the head guy from Slowpoke Well was named something else... Crouton... Pluton? No, Proton! And now Petrel? How many executives are there with a 'P'?_

"I have found out that he is hiding in their leader's office!" Lance said, his back turned to the groaning Rocket Grunt whom he had tortured the information out of. "Unfortunately though, that room is also protected with a password..."

"Hmm," Lyra brainstormed carefully. "Maybe we can force the doors to the protected rooms open... with your immense strength!"

"Lyra!" Lance scolded, growing impatient; "We need the password to their leader's office first!"

"And... then you'll force the doors open?" she asked with hope. Passwords or not, she was intent on seeing him pull another superhuman feat.

Holding his face and sighing, Lance turned away, and abandoned her to clear out the basement.

"What? ...You never know until you try it!" Lyra reasoned, watching him and his Dragonite walk off.

_That girl..._ Lance drew his breath sharply. _I know it's because she's a child, but she has fabricated some serious misconceptions about me. Though I wish it were so... I am not actually a super hero! _he thought; _But now... the 'childish me' from three years ago is reawakening. Back then, I was just as reckless as her... I thought no one could defeat me. My grasp on reality wasn't at its strongest then, but..._

Looping around the empty basement hall, he eventually wandered up a staircase.

_But at that time, I felt the most alive. She's making me question myself... How did I grow up into such a solemn person?_

Brushing back his sweeping cape, Lance observed the room around him. A narrow hallway continued on ahead, but to his left lingered a large nook with a lone computer; blinking silently, its modems and computer screens invited him to take a closer look.

_Just an ordinary Team Rocket computer set-up... _he finally determined, merely staring at it from afar. _What a random place to put one, though. I suppose someone wanted their office in the hall? _His musings were disturbed when he heard angry, stomping footsteps from behind him.

"This is your fair warning... Turn around!" an enraged voice demanded. "Get ready to fight, you cosplaying, lolicon freak!"

Looking over his shoulder, Lance jolted. Charging at him was a redheaded boy with a murderous intent.

_~To Be Continued~_

* * *

Why did this story get such a long name?... It's very inconvenient. 'If I Lost on Purpose, Would You Stop Following Me?'

LONG NAME IS LONG. In fact, its computer folder is simply named 'IILOP.'

Eye-lop... Eye-eye-lop?


	32. Lanceman Vs The Silver

_'Cosplaying, lolicon freak?'..._ Lance pondered, disturbed by the boy's accusation._ Is he talking to me? ...I'm confused. _"Do I know you?" Lance asked, simply backing away from the charging boy.

Rushing past, Silver's black-soled heel swept the empty air, missing its target and spinning in reverse as he regained balance. "No! But you'll soon know my FOOT–" Silver threatened, bringing his knee across his chest and lashing it outwards.

Struck by the edge of Silver's foot, Lance stumbled backwards, stealing away as the boy kept swiping and stomping in succession, aiming to kick Lance's knees and toes with precise shin and foot blows. _What... What the?_ Lance thought in concentration, dodging and retreating towards the staircase. _This boy... He uses street fighting moves! Just where did he come from? _"And just what is this all about?" Lance demanded, growing weary of retreating. Pulling his cape out, he fluttered it outwards, spreading it and obscuring Silver's vision long enough to stop the onslaught. "A child such as yourself," Lance continued; "Are you part of Team Rocket?"

"Tch. No way!" Silver slunk back, flustered by the tall man's resourcefulness. "Don't relate me to those wimps. I'm here... because... y...you're an idiot!"

"I am?" Lance resounded. _My intelligence can't be as limited as your vocabulary... _he thought._  
_

"Hmph," Silver scoffed, halting his attack, yet sliding his feet apart in defense. "If you can't figure it out already, then you truly are an idiot. Bringing Lyra to such a dangerous place... You! Team Rocket isn't something that some child should be messing with!"

"True. It sounds like you have some experience on the subject," Lance conceded. "However, Lyra isn't just 'some child'. Do you know her? ...She's extremely talented and capable, such that I would trust her before most adults."

"Of course I know her. She's MY rival! I know her better than ANYONE," Silver said. "And you're a fool for letting her loose in here, she's insane! Flying all over the map and making me worry all the time... she refuses to focus on her training and she's always blowing stuff up!"

"I... see," Lance folded his arms, overwhelmed. _Why is this boy second-guessing Lyra and I? __This is upsetting me!_ he thought, bothered by how this jealous challenger just popped up all of a sudden_. _"I hear your complaints but you must excuse me. I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this," Lance said, dismissing him. "You need to get over your serious trust issues. Did Lyra ask you to protect her?"

"Geh–" Silver sputtered. _That's–_

"If not, then you shouldn't complain," Lance said, cutting off Silver's thoughts. "Your anxiety arises only from your mistrust... You understand yet? Have a little more faith in her, she's not as helpless as you think."

"W-what do you know about anything?" Silver countered, his anger making him hot under his collar. "About me OR her? You're the one who needs to understand... The problem here is you!" Lunging the distance between him and Lance, he kicked high for his chest, and then let out a rapid volley.

Bending low, Lance slid back– bracing his arms and deflecting Silver's shattering kicks. _I know. I irresponsibly invited Lyra here for petty reasons, _Lance thought,_ but... She grew on me. And I'd now seriously consider her for a sidekick._

"That's... enough," Lance yelled, stepping in and snatching Silver's airborne ankle. "Using only your legs to fight... It's needlessly ineffective!"

"Erk–" Silver turned, tripping and smacking the floor.

Stepping over him, Lance paused, snatching up Silver's right wrist. After a moment, the boy quickly whipped it away and crawled aside like a wounded animal.

"As I suspected, your hands are injured," Lance concluded, giving Silver some space. "That's why you relied on kicking only. Though you switched to a realistic savate style to compensate, you were limited in moves and expending far too much energy."

"Heh–" Silver hissed, stumbling to his feet. "Think you're so smart. Got me all figured out? I've still got more than enough kicks left to finish you off– you puffed up eyesore."

"Don't," Lance raised his palm, looking away. "Furthering this fight would be meaningless. You're not at your full strength and I'd only be holding myself back. And I don't like hitting children."

"You're so full of it, it's amazing you can stand up straight!" Silver bellowed, deeply unnerved by Lance's formality. "Don't like hitting children, hah! But hitting on them's another story, you weirdo!"

"What are you talking about?" Lance questioned, adjusting his black specs and scrunching up his face in annoyance and lingering pangs of conscience. "Well fine. I take it you're a trainer, as you mentioned being Lyra's rival. Let's settle this with a pokemon battle then."

"So in the end, you're that scared of getting kicked around..." Silver goaded arrogantly, reaching into his jacket pockets. "Don't worry, I'll let you hide behind your pokemon this time... But don't even THINK it'll make your beating any softer."

_Strange, _Lance thought, glancing at his Dragonite knowingly._ Lyra considers this obnoxious and violent boy to be her equal?_ _For some reason, that bitterly irritates me... Am I just being petty again? _"Think whatever you will," Lance said, motioning for his dragon to attack. "Likewise, we won't hold back either. Dragonite, go!"

"Sneasel," Silver called, pitching his pokeball onto the battle field. Bursting out, the lithe bodied creature meowed and knifed through the air with his claws to display his speed. "Get in close and blast him with Icy Wind," Silver instructed. "Don't disappoint me."

"Fly!" Lance raised his hand up, summoning his dragon to jet up for the vaulted ceiling. Running forth a second too late, Sneasel hacked and sputtered, frost pouring from his bewildered mouth as he lost his target and stared up at the soaring dragon.

"Don't just stand there– get him!" Silver yelled, growing impatient. _What, do I have to give you a big speech or something? I said 'don't disappoint me', that should be enough!_

"Hya!" Lance struck his hand forward, wordlessly directing his dragon's flight. Downwards Dragonite swooped, pounding Sneasel flat and crushing apart the floor beneath them.

Glancing at Sneasel's fainted form, Silver withdrew him, shaking uncontrollably as he threw out his next pokeball. _Sneasel's out? Already? No way... We had a type advantage... Sneasel's supposed to be fast... but we didn't even get a chance to attack!_

"Golbat, crush him!" Silver yelled, "Confuse ray–"

"–Dragonite, stall, point! Thunder!" Lance said, not even flinching as a scorching thunderbolt poured down from the ceiling and struck Silver's pokemon.

Shocked through to his skeleton, Golbat fell, his rubbery wings smacking the ground and his body crumpled and still.

_This is impossible! _Silver thought, scowling and reaching for his next pokeball;_ This kind of power... even the way he issues commands..._ _Short and almost in a secret code... His battle style is just like Lyra's!_

"Haunter, go all out and win!" Silver yelled, sending out the ghost. _If I can hit his big, oafing Dragonite with a status effect, _he thought,_ he's done for! _"Curse that sucker!" Silver ordered. Clawing through the air, Haunter flew, brandishing a giant pin and readying it to stab himself in sacrifice.

"Go! Stop–" Lance swung his arm out forcefully, his Dragonite halting abruptly. "Thunder!"

_He can't really expect that move to hit twice!_ Silver watched, his mouth widening as Dragonite fluttered his wings in concentration– another thunderbolt pouring down from the storming ceiling. Overcome by the clashing energy field, Haunter dropped, instantly defeated.

"It's a lie! No one's that lucky!" Silver raged, losing his sense of control. _How dare you hit me twice in a row with Thunder! Your Dragonite can't be real!_ "Bastard! You're definitely cheating!" Silver swore, wildly pointing at Lance.

"This isn't cheating..." Lance declared, fluttering back his cape like a monstrous black wing. "This is going beyond the impossible!"

"Don't try to make me laugh!" Silver swore, sending out another pokemon. _You even say dumb things just like Lyra! _he thought."Magnemite, Spark–" he ordered the steel ball of magnets to charge with electricity.

"Dragonite, Hyper Beam–" Lance boomed, grabbing his shades close in preparation for the bright burst._ I don't cheat, this power is real! _he thought._ And what I said is true. As a Dragon Master, I train day in and day out, honing these skills together with my pokemon... Going to impossible levels, beating myself half to death... My dragons aren't ordinary fighters!_

Bellowing deeply, the Dragonite opened his mouth and fired a flashing energy blast, renting the air apart and distorting it into wavy fumes. Caught in the energy's ballistic tide, Magnemite flailed around before giving out. Beeping weakly, it dropped to the floor, its round body bouncing slightly and rolling to a standstill.

"I can't believe this!" Silver continued on his rampage, holding his head in massive shock. "My whole team gone... Because of your _one_ stupid dragon! Ridiculous! I've been encouraging my pokemon, but they keep failing me... Worthless!" Switching to his final pokeball, he ricocheted it off the ground. "Well this is it. Feraligatr– crush him!"

Stretching upwards from his crouching position, the muscular reptile easily surpassed Lance in height. Ready to rip something apart, Feraligatr snapped his slick blue jaws in anticipation. Huddling to the ground, Dragonite feebly glanced up, uneasily flapping his tiny teal wings as he struggled to recharge after that last attack.

"Show him your true power and go for the throat," Silver vengefully declared. "Shred him up. Ice Fang!"

Whipping his tail in pursuit, Feraligatr threw back his snout and tore into Dragonite's neck, shaking and twisting his icy razor fangs into his foe's yellow skin. Not letting up, Feraligatr lingered in his vicious attack, tearing and shaking as Dragonite screamed and shrieked.

"You... really mean to shred him up!" Lance blasted, horrified by the merciless manner in which Silver and Feraligatr fought. "Are you seriously going for the kill?!"

"...Isn't that what battling is?" Silver fought back a smirk. "Going for the kill... Are you going to start crying ethics now? You, and everybody else should get it through your head– this is what it means when you make animals fight your own fights. You're using them as substitutes for your own life. Didn't you ever stop to think about it?"

"You're greatly mistaken, pokemon battles are not death matches, it's a dignified sport," Lance tensed his arms, restraining his urge to go over and smack Silver. "That's why it has a sanctioned league– to make sure battles are conducted on acceptable terms! Teaching a living creature to kill... It's disgraceful! You're thoroughly lacking as a human being!"

"Here we go again, another stubborn idealist," Silver said and shrugged. "If pokemon battling was only a sport, we wouldn't need pokemon just to walk outside in the GRASS... Do you know what it's like to travel around without a pokemon? ...No? Wild pokemon don't give a crap about 'sanctioned league' stupidity– they just want to kill and eat you! It's in their natures! That's all they're good for."

"This... I'm starting to understand the depths of your baggage," Lance said, stressfully holding his forehead. _What child would travel in such a dangerous manner? To have clearly lived such a harsh life... Is he a runaway?_ "It's time to end this– and teach you a valuable lesson about trust and love! Dragonite. Remember our training! Grapple under ...Thunder!"

Wailing resoundingly, Dragonite concentrated while latching onto Feraligatr and drawing out another energy storm.

Struggling against his foe's arm lock, Feraligatr gawked up at the ceiling, growling lowly as dark clouds gathered above them, ready to strike them both down.

"Are you SERIOUS?" Silver yelled, shielding his face as a massing electricity burst parted the clouds. "Your pokemon's gonna get hit too... You're crazy!" _Increasing your attack accuracy in such a sacrificing way, _he thought, _is ordinarily impossible!_

The two pokemon shrieked as a wicked thunderbolt slammed down, shocking their skeletons visible like an x-ray. After and endless moment of static discharge and flailing, Feraligatr's body gave out and went limp. Emerging from underneath, Dragonite shoved the scaly blue body aside and stood up, mostly unharmed.

"It can't be... You can't do that," Silver uttered, too stunned to move. "I won't believe it." _That just now... What... How did he win, and with just one pokemon? _he wondered in bewilderment._ I don't understand, I've been doing everything I can, but then he just does something completely crazy and it works..._

"We're free to chose whatever we wish to believe in, but you must accept this reality," Lance explained, folding his arms. "This battle is over due to our glaring differences in strength. Take your loss as a lesson and move on."

"Whatever! If that's not cheating, then tell me, how did you DO that?" Silver spat, contemptuously looking over Feraligatr's large, unconscious body. He may have asked this question, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.

Lance obliged his request and answered. "Though Dragonite got in the way of his own attack, he still used Feraligatr to draw away most of the lightning's current... Your surprise is justified. it was a rather unorthodox attack strategy. And ordinarily, it's outright impossible."

But still, Silver was defeated, and on such a huge scale, there was no way to excuse it. "All... my pokemon right now... They're worthless," he concluded sternly, turning away from Feraligatr. _I can never get them to do such impressive things... No amount of training or flattery can make them stronger. _"They're so weak, it's repulsive."_ And I knew it from the beginning, _he went on and thought_, but I've been too lazy to do anything about it. I thought I could make due. But now... _

"I'll get rid of them all," Silver said. "I'll replace them." _I'll scrap this team and start over. I'll raise a perfect team. Then I'll never have to deal with this detestable disappointment and shame ever again._

"No, on your team, the only one who needs to be replaced," Lance suggested, "–is you."

Silver flinched, startled by this realizatio_n. _"No, YOU'LL need to be replaced!" he threatened, rushing at Lance in a fit of bad sportsmanship. Forgetting all about the pain in his fists, he swung and decked his target perfectly this time. Spontaneously punching the dragon trainer in the face was the perfect release to all of his frustration– even if he didn't put any thought into it. And he didn't.

Stumbling slightly, Lance tilted away, silently holding his jaw as Silver watched, dumbfounded. It was almost as if he knew Silver would be too stunned by his own outburst to continue the fight. "You done?" Lance asked patiently. "Now for the truth. After you said those horrible things during our battle, you didn't even notice your Feraligatr's expressions. When you said, 'that's all they're good for,' you might as well of just given up. You broke his will to win."

Something warm tickled Silver's right hand. Glancing down, he noticed that he had reopened his wounds. _I lost control and did something stupid again,_ he realized._ But... I shouldn't feel sorry about this at all..._

_But I still feel ashamed._

"As a trainer, it's your job to encourage them to grow beyond their limits, not box them in. Their powers are unlimited, but you keep dragging them down with your weaknesses. How can I say this..." Lance went on; "You're lacking basic human empathy, like love and trust..."

Silver heard these words of help and understanding, but they all blurred together in his shaken emotional state. "Why are you going on about that? You won. Shut up!" Silver snapped and turned away, finally retrieving his fainted Feraligatr. _I know I'm weak... But I'll get stronger. Even if I said I'd only lose to Lyra... Even if I said all those big things and I keep failing like this... _

_This dragon trainer is... a way better man than me._

Pocketing Feraligatr's pokeball, Silver smacked his forearm to his aching eye sockets. Taking a deep breath, he felt a sobbing quiver in the back of his throat– much to his heightened mortification. _I've already lost control enough times already! _he thought;_ Not right now... this is the worst... Go back in, stupid eyes!_

"Are you ok?" Lance emitted in concern– entirely forgetting that Silver had just punched him in the jaw.

"So noisy... leave me alone." Silver sulked, turning his back on him completely. "I wasn't being serious about my team just now. I'll train them some more and beat you with them, so don't get so full of yourself yet..." He quickly wiped his eyes dry. "This isn't over."

"It might as well be... You can't get stronger as you are now," Lance said, refusing his ideals. "You can't until you're able to properly connect with your pokemons' hearts. Nothing can grow strong until it is nurtured and respected– and you seem unable to do either of those things."

"So all this time you've been saying... that I fail as a human?"

"As harsh as it seems... Basically," Lance confirmed in a roundabout way.

"Well screw you!" Silver said, shaking his words off. "Excuse me for being no good... Everybody's always telling me 'love your pokemon', it's sickening! Things aren't that easy. Go love a rock and tell me how it suits you."_ But still,_ he thought despondently, _Lyra was probably the first person to tell me something different... She told me that trust was all I needed. She didn't seem too concerned about love, in fact, I don't think she's even aware of it... Well. I trust my pokemon enough to know that they're mine. That should be enough._

"Love isn't sickening. It's mysterious and occasionally troubling, but it's an undeniable driving force," Lance explained, willing to make his point. "It's a powerhouse energy, and trust is the link that connects it between hearts... If you live without these things, you'll always be held back. And you'll never be able to reach Lyra."

_Saying all these complicated things to me... it makes me feel even worse, _Silver thought, scowling. "How can I reach her? When there's always guys like you going after her!" he yelled once again, rudely pointing at Lance. "You know what I'm talking about, you lolicon FREAK."

The man in question creased his brow, more than fed up with Silver's shenanigans. _He took me out of context... Typical of a child!_ Lance thought. _What I really meant was that he'd never be able to reach Lyra in terms of skill... But now I understand his jumpiness. He must truly be in love with her. I underestimated him in that aspect... Maybe he's not so hopeless._

"...Don't be silly, I'm not going after her," Lance denied, reaching into his uniform jacket's pocket. "Children these days get such strange ideas. I don't need to go anywhere, I only need to wait patiently. Girls grow up faster than boys, after all. They're also wiser."

"Hey... What does that mean?" Silver grumbled, alarmed by Lance's rambling. _Is he admitting to his pervertedness or what?! _he wondered._  
_

"Here, take this," Lance said, handing Silver a small drawstring bag. Taking it in hand, Silver instantly recognized it as the Sacred Ash from earlier. "If you wish to beat me, you'd better hurry up and get serious," the dragon master warned. "Or I'll steal your rival from you."

"Ha!" Silver laughed, even though he felt himself sweating all of a sudden. "Go ahead and TRY."

_~To be continued~_

* * *

**It's fun to read people's profiles... Chances are, I've already read your profile at least twice by now.**

**Scared? Mwahahaha... *shifty stalker glance***

**There's a reason why all these characters are insane.**


	33. His and Hers Circumstances

Charging into the computer room ablaze, Lyra stopped, glancing sideways and slowing her panting. Contemplating the double row of computer counters before her, she eyed the scientist and female Rocket grunt staring back at her. _Strange... I've certainly been sensing Jerkface lately,_ she thought;_ That is, 'sensing' his energy level nearby... It seems the Demon King's awareness training paid off after all. But first things first!_

"Wha. Why are you on FIRE?" the female Rocket grunt finally blared, pointing accusingly at Lyra's blazing figure. "Ah! And I've seen you before!"

Jumping up onto the nearby computer counter, Lyra whooshed her flaming arm forward. "Jumping forth with an oncoming warning, Super Jump Girl a go-go," she said, chopping the air fiercely and leaning back at a sharp angle; "Acquiring the power of the singing flame– with the help of Typhlosion, I will be king! Prepare for a thwarting– doers of absolutely no good!" Lyra finished, vastly more interested in making a cool entrance than in answering the woman's excellent question.

"Uah? That doesn't explain why you're on FIRE," the rocket grunt went ballistic, angrily stomping her boots. "And what the hell! You can't be a king, you're a girl!" _And that prose didn't have any poetic meter! _she added mentally_.  
_

"Morals over semantics," Lyra declared bravely. "Like flowers over dumplings!"

"It's dumplings over flowers, you moronic brat!"

"But back to business!" Lyra ignored the grunt's correction on the proverb. "You Rockets say that you don't care what happens to the pokemon you experiment on... But that's wrong! Each pokemon is an important life... Tell me the passwords or I'll blast you away!"

"Wagh, my computer's on fire!" the scientist bellowed, hugging his computer screen and screaming as Lyra's spreading blaze consumed his desk. "Noooo! My ENTIRE life's inside! You horrible–"

"–I see you won't easily give up... Your face is obnoxious, but I like your spirit," Lyra admitted, holding her chin as the scientist and grunt yelled obscenities behind her. _Earlier when I was trying to get dry after battling that red gyarados, I learned that Typhlosion could control what objects his flame burns. As such, we discovered a forbidden technique... _ Lyra remembered, crossing her arms thoughtfully and ignoring the ranting of the two foes behind her. _That he could set me on fire without truly burning me... This is... The Secret 'Flame Body' Ability._

"Tsk. Don't you know the saying?..." Lyra asked purposefully, dropping her arms at her sides as Typloshion– who was standing in the doorway– focused his eyes on his trainer and shot flames off his neck to engulf her. "The more you evolve Magikarp–" Lyra deepened her voice, thumping around mercilessly as the scientist screamed in pain; "Strike, Super Jump Girl, strike!"

Watching the strange and brutal attack, the female Rocket grunt shook off her bewilderment just enough to reach and arm herself with a rocket launcher which was propped against the nearby wall.

Sensing the woman's movement, Lyra moved into action. _Guns? Guns again?! _she realized;_ My one true weakness... I have to take it out before it takes me out! _she understood, readying her next attack. "Typhlosion... Here I go–" Lyra tore passionately. Raising her hand up, she stared intensely at its blazing form and urged her companion to turn up the heat. "This hand of mine is burning red... Its loud roar tells me to GRASP victory."

"That's it... I know now–" the grunt growled, finally remembering where she had seen Lyra before. "You're that crazy tea kettle brat from Slowpoke Well!"

"So you remember my face from before... But I wear a mask now, so your memories will have to be extinguished," Lyra called, her voice echoing down the halls as she lunged forward. "Erupting! Burning!" Gritting her teeth, she rammed her fiery fingertips straight into the rocket launcher's barrel: "–Fingerrrr!"

Screaming fearfully from the relatively harmless attack, the grunt pulled the trigger, causing Lyra to lift her arm up with the gun– the grunt still hanging on in shock. _This can't be!_ The woman gawked down at Lyra, too dazed to let go. _This girl clogged and heat sealed the barrel with her bare hand... Lifting me up like this... Where did this kid come from?!  
_

"And nooow," Lyra rasped, her back creaking from the weight hoisted up by her wrist but withstanding it anyway. "Heat End!" Almost immediately, the gun clicked and backfired, consuming the whole room in a short explosive burst.

* * *

Silver winced from the overheard booming rumble, glancing over his shoulder at the staircase leading back. _An explosion? _he wondering, sweating uncomfortably and instantly knowing its source. "What a troublemaker. Would it kill her just to act a little girly?" he complained, crouching on the ground. _Since it might kill her to keep acting as she does... stupid hick._ He couldn't help but laugh wearily at the thought. If she had been one of those straitlaced, overly-friendly girls who are obsessed with 'making people smile', he would've thankfully gotten bored of her by now.

Holding his bleeding hand with his swollen one, Silver squeezed as if expecting the pressure to ease his pain. Instead, her nearly yelled out from the shooting ache and fell backwards on his tailbone. _I've got so many__ troubles, I can just start listing them off!_ he thought bitterly._ For starters, that caped freak threatened to steal my rival, that girl just blew something else up, and now I think my hands are broken forever... _Looking down at his spent pouch of Sacred Ash, he attempted to pour the remaining residue amount onto his wounded hand.

_This gunk worked on healing all my pokemon just now, _Silver thought, figuring it was worth a shot,_ so..._

The gray specs of dust landed on his crusted, bloody mess of a hand and then poofed away, leaving a prismatic, light-catching sheen on his wounded skin.

_What? Unbelievable... _ He thought, sitting in livid shock. _My hands are shimmering... It's like I used some of that disgusting glitter lotion that's heavily marketed at tweens. Wait..._ He finally realized, seeing as his wounds were still there and bleeding.

"It had no effect!" he stood up, yelled, and raged. _And now my hand looks totally lame!_ Attempting to rub the shining substance off, his efforts only caused more pain and agony, and for the sparkles to spread onto the other hand like an infectious, shiny disease. "Shii– This sucks!" Silver cried, a pitiful tear wrenching from the corner of his left eye. _I bet that dragon trainer planned this, _he thought_. I bet he's laughing at me right this very instant! I'll get him for this–_

Behind Silver, the sound of heavy foot steps grew louder and clearer, along with two trailing voices. "I believed that being on fire would impress them into surrendering," Lyra's voice lamented. "But it only made them shout angry obscenities and question the fact... 'Why are you on fire?' ...Why is anyone on fire, indeed? At least no two people are. Ah, it's tough knowing what the audience wants. At least we got the passwords."

"Typh typh... pho," a low grumble answered thoughtfully, ruminating on the girl's words.

"I suppose pandering to the action instinct _is_ a form of cheap fan service."

"Typhlo, shun."

"When did you get so manly?" Lyra asked admirably, audibly beating the soot from her pillow-like hat.

_None of her conversations EVER make sense!_ Silver thought crossly, holding his head with his defiled hands. _And what is this bit about her 'being on fire'? ...That must be what caused the explosion earlier! This. This is what Lance just doesn't understand. Every time I turn my back on Lyra, she goes and does something dangerously stupid and– _Finally realizing that the girl and her pokemon were coming up the stairs, Silver cut that thought and dove behind the stray computer at the end of the hall. Curling up into a tight ball beneath its desk, he cringed as he felt her approaching feet's vibrations.

"Hm? What's this stray computer doing out here?" Lyra asked inquisitively, stepping around to investigate it. "Placed precariously at the end of this hall, and without any more around... What an antisocial computer! Maybe it doesn't _like_ other computers. Or maybe its owner didn't like working around other people WITH computers."

_Who gives a crap about that?! Are you a shrink?_ Silver thought in violent alarm, clenching his teeth viciously as he looked up at her legs. _Stop evaluating the significance of this randomly placed computer and get out of here! I don't want you to see me like this, because right now... I'm pathetic and sparkly!_

Backing away from the computer desk, Lyra narrowed her eyes at it. Through its wooden desktop, she thought she could see a purplish miasma seeping up . _This computer is giving off a ferocious battle aura! _she thought in panic. _Frightening... I should probably leave it alone._..

Silver huffed in relief as his rival and her lumbering pokemon ran off down the narrow hall, grunting and dashing with all their might.

Crawling out from under the computer desk, Silver stood up and composed himself. "That was a close one," he admitted, turning his attention towards the narrow hall. _But... I need to stop hiding like this, _he thought. _If I keep acting weakly, that man will soon take her from me... To prevent that, I need to remind her that I'm her rival. Even if I have to pound the truth into her... I'll make her understand that no one else can take my place!_

Finally finding the courage to face her, Silver brushed his hands off on his pants and hurried down the hall.

* * *

Walking down the stairs, Lyra turned to Typhlosion. "Whatever awaits us in the next room... we should stand before it with the same guts and courage we've ran forth with all this time," she said. "So. Let's do this! And never stop running forward!" And upon saying this, her face became hard and shadowed, like a pastel chalk-drawn freeze frame.

Coming to a mutual understanding, the two nodded, and turning back around, they silently stalked forth as if sharing a single mind. Setting their mind to defeating Team Rocket, they wordlessly vowed to not look back.

"Huh?" Lyra stopped, looking back ANYWAY. Without explanation, she grew excited. _This feeling again... Is he nearby? _she wondered. Going backwards for the corner, she was yanked to a standstill by Typloshion, who gave her a look that he was annoyed by her broken vow. But Lyra never minded him, being she was entirely distracted by the fact that Silver was walking towards her. With his hands in his pockets and his head tilted arrogantly, he examined her with his menacing eyes.

Gulping, Lyra felt her heart jump and her limbs ready to spring into action. _This warm feeling in my heart..._ she thought, suddenly becoming aware of it. _Could it be? I__s it just my imagination, or... does power metal play whenever he appears?_ _It's this very same song, too: Dunadunadoo! DoonoonuuFFFFnuuoo– yeah, THAT didn't work out well. But still! It makes me jump and forget about everything. Wait, is this what Crystal meant? Is this..._

Surprisingly patient despite his rival's slack-jawed staring, Silver stared back coldly and jerked his head to convey that he meant _business_. "So you ARE messing with them again," he said, alluding to Team Rocket and frowning as he surveyed her soot covered face and disheveled ponytails. She was a mess.

"And you're... just jealous," Lyra retorted, narrowing her eyes since she knew that wasn't her BEST comeback to date. Sweating nervously in the face of her rival's strange intensity, she had to look at his forehead instead of his eyes. _It's been awhile since I've seen his face up close like this... _she thought._ I've forgotten how unsettling it is._

_Jealous?! _Silver thought, nearly raving in place at this. "Hmph," he huffed impatiently, his eye sent twitching in irritation as he dug for a comeback, "you must really like Team Rocket **so much**."

"That doesn't even make any sense."

"Shut up!" he finally snapped, his face reddening. _Trying to make a fool out of me... _he trailed off in thought. "...Tell me, who was the guy in the cape who used Dragon-type pokemon? My pokemon were no match at all."

"You battled Lance and lost?" Lyra jolted in her loafers. "...Sweet mother of Arceus."

"I don't care that I lost." Silver looked away with as much dignity as he could muster. "I can beat him by getting stronger pokemon." _Though... He tricked me into keeping this weak team! _he thought._ It was the only way to keep this pride of mine intact... After that loss he dealt me, and all..._

"Don't take it to heart," Lyra told Silver brusquely, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You didn't lose on purpose this time. So it's all good."

"...Feeding me lines as usual?" he grumbled lowly, too low for her to hear. "... Tch! Well whatever... I didn't take it to heart! It's what he said that bothers me... He told me that I don't love and trust my pokemon enough. I'm furious that I lost to a bleeding heart like him."

_You say you don't care, _Lyra thought, observing Silver's furrowed eyebrows and petulant expression_, but you clearly look angry!__ Even you cheeks are puffed out– like you're about to explode. _Deciding to calm him before he had a meltdown, she held both his shoulders. _But, he's opening up to me right now... Does that mean he trusts me more? If so, I definitely can't let this moment pass by! I should say something to him.. Something that'll cheer him up... _

"Rival," she began solemnly, actually looking him in the eyes. "As men, we make up many beliefs about the world around us. And as we mature, these beliefs either break or grow. These times of change are painful... But one truth always remains: We only get upset when our perception of an important reality changes. Be it the passing of a relationship, loved one, or a way of thinking, we–"

Silver's face went blank. Bewildered by her depressing words, he selectively tuned out the rest of her monologue and instead focused on her smudged-up face. _I could be mistaken, but, is she trying to make another dumb hero speech?_ he wondered._ And what was with that 'as men' part? That was weird and distracting! No, all I can focus on now is her lips, and that's what's really distracting me... _

_Wait, no, I'm not getting distracted. That's not it at all! It's just a mouth!  
_

"...Hmph!" Silver huffed, suddenly hot and flustered, and wrestling his hands from his pockets."I don't have the time for the likes of you!" He slapped away her hands, all before lightly shoving her by the shoulders– and sending her toppling and rolling off of Typhlosion's fuzzy blue back.

Defeated all too easily, Lyra groaned, "Shoving– my other true weakness..."

Silver stepped back, wondering what had just happened. _No... isn't she supposed to be stronger than that? I barely pushed her at all! _Unnerved by the unexpected stumble, Silver spun around and darted off around the corner.

Recovering instantly, Lyra wriggled to her feet. _I only saw them for a moment, but I think Jerkface's hands were shimmering, _she realized. _Ohohoh. Did he honestly think he could bully-on without me noticing something so stupid? _"Get over here!" Lyra yelled and lashed out at Silver, grabbing his arm and whipping him back around the corner with a vengeance. Seizing his hands, she inspected their pale skin. _Glitter? _she guessed, turning them over, and freezing when she saw his torn-up, bloody white knuckles instead.

Too ashamed to move, Silver bent his neck low and gulped, anxiously waiting for the rest of his embarrassment to follow. _What, are you going to put me down? Laugh at me?! _he wondered._ But even I know... I deserve it. _Moments passed, and after not hearing a single word from her, Silver peered up her expressionless face, startled by what he saw.

Disappearing along with its usual color and energy, the features of Lyra's face were unmoving and unnoticeable, almost as if they weren't even there. Her pupils sat in the center of her eyes, unfocused but gaping at something distant behind his shoulder.

An empty echo rumbled inside Lyra's head– a rushing clank of moving metal. Unable to do anything about it, she was forced to remember it:

_The wind rushing outside the shuttle's window. _

_The sparks sent upwards through the darkness, pitting the glass. _

_And the shrieking sound of bending metal..._

_I stopped remembering the rest; or did I? _

_Father's hands... his hands were fighting back the crushing steel– shielding me, with all his strength, pushing forward, and then a flash–_

A cold weight grew inside Silver's stomach as he waited for her to move. Unable to speak, he looked down at his hands to see what she saw– noticing that their damaged skin had made them take on an anemic, lifeless color.

Shaking her head, slightly, but then quiveringly, Lyra finally woke up. "What the hell did you do to your hands?!" she yelled at him unforgivingly, grabbing them close before filling with a disturbed fervor. With her mouth twisting and her eyes suddenly gushing, an infectious trembling overtook her body and she bowed her head low to withdraw from his sight. To the both of them, it felt as if she were about to split open and become something entirely different.

Silver was paralyzed, unable to think of anything but the fear driven into him by her unexpected horror and break-down. Lyra– who was ordinarily fearless– was now shakily squeezing his wrists and growing paler since she was forgetting to breath. Afraid she would pass out, Silver shook her, and when she violently pushed her face into his chest and gasped, Silver flinched. She had dug her fingers under his belt to hold on tight– maybe to him– but probably, he considered, to herself. After awhile, his arms drifted around her, and for the time being, they somehow forgot how to move. Even if this sudden shift in closeness was getting to him, he knew that it would be thoughtless to shove her away twice. _Probably, I..._ he remembered, understanding what he had possibly triggered._ Just made her remember something horrible..._

Sliding his arms around her, he rested his chin on her hat and pulled her closer. He didn't mind if she was acting a little crazier than usual. The way her fingers were clenched under his belt more than made up for it.

_If she doesn't want to rely on me, she'll pull away..._ _If she pulls away now, I'll believe that she doesn't need me, _he thought defiantly. _But that won't happen. I can bet on it.  
_

Lyra stood still without any complaints and Silver tightened his hold. Overflowing with a feeling of competence, his chest warmed. Watching her just melt in his hands gave him more satisfaction than winning any battle. Even if it was indirect– this was the defeat he had always wanted to deal her. The defeat that would weaken her and allow him to catch her.

"Jerkface," Lyra muffled out after calming down, her mouth pressed against his chest. "You hate me, but I'll hate you too, if anything bad happens to you..."

"What are you freaking out about?" Silver said. "They're just hands, wimp. You're so weird, stay still and be quiet."

"Ok." She listened to him and held on tighter, her previous level of sanity healing and returning.

Confused, both of them pondered why they were suddenly clinging together like magnets. And knowing that Lyra would pull away soon, Silver locked his sore fingers together as a preventive measure. _I'm probably taking advantage of the situation... _he thought irritably, b_ut it's not that big of a deal. She should only show this to me, anyway... This ugly loss of control. It makes perfect sense. This belongs to me._

"Also... I don't hate you," Silver announced, wanting to say more, but realizing that he was inexplicably running out of breath.

"...What a noisy heart," Lyra observed, nuzzling her ear to his chest. She seemed to be sniffing him too, which disconcerted him even further. On top of it all, Typhlosion was standing up and shooting him a fierce glare from behind Lyra's back. The fire starter had gotten a lot taller since the last time they'd met.

"T-that's your fault. Making me run all over the place all the time..." Silver stammered, anxiously pulling away. While he was trying to hide his heated face with his hands, Lyra dutifully reached into her bag.

"Hey. Hold you hands out," she told him.

Without much thought, Silver obeyed, and before he knew it– she was pouring a tall glass bottle of SOMETHING BURNING all over his hands. The scorching stinging was unbearable. He couldn't help but yell in abject agony– gasping and catching his breath before cussing at her with unrepeatable curses, and then scolding her for extra good measure. Slumping her shoulders, Lyra stared down at the bottle of Everstone in her hand. It was the same bottle of alcohol that she had used to attack his Totodile almost two weeks ago; this he could tell because its fill level had decreased significantly. At least he hoped it was the same bottle. "IS THAT HOW YOU SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS?" he continued yelling at her, shaking his hands wildly in an effort to cool them down. "–WITH HARD LIQUOR?"

Looking down at the ground, Lyra didn't answer, and Silver, noticing her humiliation, stopped yelling. He couldn't tell for sure– since his own eyes had teared up– but he thought that maybe she had started crying again. Holding his throbbing hands and shuddering, he finally understood what she was trying to do. She was only trying to disinfect them.

Without any words, Lyra dropped to the ground and began digging through her bag, clinking unknown objects around before stopping and looking a bit agitated.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Silver saw that she had frozen in place. _This looks familiar... _he thought. _Did she realize that she ran out of lemonade again? What. Does she want to mix a drink now?_

"Ran out," Lyra managed to say, her mouth dropping open in mortal shame. "I ran out of bandages."

_This IS a familiar scene, _Silver thought. "Fine. I don't care," Silver said, forgiving her for making his hands bleed again. "It's just like you to do something so reckless." _I guess her mom forgot to pack extra bandages in that duffel she forced on me..._

Standing up, Lyra untied her white cape and took its hem in hand– roaring like an animal as she quickly ripped it away.

_Did she snap again?!_ Silver thought in stilted fear, watching her violently tear off two long strips.

Grabbing Silver's hands, one before the other, Lyra began wrapping them. Layering the folds carefully, she made sure not to move the strips too much– as the fabric immediately soaked up blood and stuck upon contact– and she bandaged them completely.

_Ripping up her cape like that... _"...Why did you do that?" Silver asked, dumbfounded. "Didn't you need it so you could play 'super hero dress-up' with that dragon dork?"

Finished with tying the last bandage, Lyra sincerely took his mitten-like hands in hers. "No," she said. "Your hands are certainly more important."

_More important to her..._ Silver thought and registered this, warming up to the fact. _I'm more important to her than that dragon-trainer... _Satisfied by what he considered to be a confession of loyalty, Silver fell silent and grew increasingly puffed up and arrogant. Surely, Lance stood no chance now.

"Because without your hands," Lyra continued, pointing up, "–the only useful faculty you'd have left would be your good-looks."

Jolting shortly at this addendum, Silver paused, contemplating the meaning of what she had just said.

_Only useful faculty..._

Was she insinuating that he was otherwise _completely_ useless?!

Flying up in outrage, Silver's hands raised themselves at Lyra– since they were now eager to shove her once again, but in a last minute decision instead– they hovered over her head and then knocked off her stupid hat. Lyra jumped as it landed on the ground with a tiny, pathetic 'flump.'

_So you think I'm no good, huh?!_ Silver thought and tore away, overflowing with grief._ I'm so insulted!_

Watching him vanish back up the stairs, Lyra held her head in shock. There was no way she could run and catch up with him now.

"What..." she uttered, completely at a loss for words. "WHAT A WEIRD RESPONSE," she yelled, holding her head in confusion. _I just admitted that I thought he was handsome,_ she thought,_ but what was with that reaction? That was totally unexpected! _Collapsing on her hands and knees, she cried in despair. _Maybe it's impossible for me. Am I not cut out for this? A boy's feelings are more delicate than I had initially thought..._

Huffing and stomping towards her, Typhlosion wrapped a stubby arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Tucking her under his fluffy elbow– he held her like she was perhaps a crawling infant.

"I failed..." Lyra wailed, her face already blue and bloated from shock. _But I think I finally understand now... what Silver means to me, _she thought. _Though, I still don't understand what use this feeling is..._

"Typhlo," the pokemon spoke, pointing his snout towards the wall.

Lyra turned her eyes to observe it. Before them stood two closed, metal sliding doors.

"The Boss's Quarters..."

_~To be continued...~_


	34. Idiot Hair

_With love, there's a confounding variety, _Lyra thought, stilling sulking from Silver's negative reaction to her compliment._ Some are probably more super-effective than the others, but... The type of love that's the strongest: that's the only type I ever wanted to believe in. _

Lost in thought STILL, Lyra remained completely motionless as Typhlosion flipped her upright, standing her back up on her feet so she could get over herself.

_Isn't love better in its simplest form? _Lyra continued to think._ A pure love. Joking and fighting together. The 'Comrade'-type love._

Without warning, Lyra spun around and fondled Typhlosion's big fluffy belly and pushed her nose into it– just for the sake of harassing him. Pushing her away, aggravated, he bopped her on the head in a final attempt to just TRY and make her concentrate, and it proved mildly successful.

Coming to her senses, the girl's eyes widened in realization as she touched her cheeks. _But this exhausting type of love... This 'evil pink emotion'-type, _she thought, deciding that it was a great idea to start color-coding it. _For all the grief it causes, is it really alright to become affected like this? I want to grow, though, so letting a little bit in at a time sounds alright... Still, I want to spend the rest of my days having adventures– with my rival threatening me like this at every turn. I don't want it to ever change.  
_

And after this very deep contemplation, Lyra touched her face and gasped, since she noticed something amiss. "This! So this is why Silver saw past my 'Super Jump Girl' guise!" she said, still patting down her face. "He recognized me immediately because... I'm not wearing my mask! I almost _certainly_ suspected something was off. It all makes sense now. Where did I put it?" She carefully began searching her overalls.

Fully fatigued by her pretend-play, Typhlosion narrowed his eyes and glanced off to the side. He hoped she would eventually grow out of this or at least tone it down a little.

_Hm,_ Lyra thought, unhooking her dark shades from her belt._ Silver may snap at me all the time, but deep down, I know he's secretly very kind._ Recalling that night at Burned Tower fairly well, and putting it into context with their more recent interactions, she became even more aware of this fact. Though she was slightly tipsy during that time back then, she could still remember her conscious moments clearly. _Even back then, he went out of his way to help me,_ Lyra remembered._ His heart beat was just as loud then when I leaned on him for support... during the first time he caught me from falling. _

Wiping the soot from her face and placing the black specs back on, Lyra took her white cape in hand and observed its now-torn hem. "It's still good," she reasoned, throwing the cape's bulk over her shoulders. "The frayed edge gives it a punk, deconstructed look! Right. In Silver's words, it's 'super hero dress-up' time again." Putting on a determined face, she pulled the cape's red bow tie around her neck and set it straight.

_My brain feels muddled and my heart feels worked up, but it's a simple matter. Our true feelings will become known to each other over time,_ Lyra thought, feeling the warmth growing in her chest._ Because after all... he said that he 'doesn't hate' me. Those words alone make me feel foolishly happy._

Typhlosion grumbled, annoyed by Lyra's sudden Silver quotation; it was obvious that she was still thinking about the boy. Though Typhlosion remained confused about what had made Lyra breakdown just then, _exactly_, he had a suspicion that it was all Silver's fault.

Leaning over the keypad on the wall adjacent to the locked steel door, Lyra began entering the two security passwords she'd beaten from the Team Rocket staff. "This looks like an elevator door, doesn't it?" she asked her towering companion. "Also, with enough strength, it looks like it could be pried open... Ah, I still want to see Lance bust a door." She daydreamed, tapping the beeping keypad.

Typhlosion thought about how he could rip it open instead, but then figured it would only ruin her fun. So, he glanced away and didn't even bother mentioning it. He was just glad that she was finally thinking about someone other that Silver– although he barely liked Lance any better. Lyra's constant idolization of the man was starting to bother him. Thinking about how there were so many annoying guys around her lately, Typhlosion held his claws together nervously and worried about their future together.

With a low groan, the two-paneled door slid open before them, inviting them inside.

"What's... this?" Lyra murmured, poking her head in and around.

In return, she was greeted by a deep, insidious chuckle. "Muhahaha..."

* * *

Back in the empty hall a story up, Silver sulked about in his OWN deep contemplations._ Is that what I am to Lyra? A useless guy who's only good for punching things or standing around?_ he thought, frowning sorely. _Of course... I act tough and talk crap, but in the end I'm just an overemotional "Jerkface". I bet she laughs at me... Is that why she gets that dopey grin on her face whenever she looks at me? I don't understand. How can she make me feel both useless and needed, all at the same time? _

Helplessly pulling his bandaged, mitten-like hands over his face, Silver sniffled, agonizing quietly in the middle of the hallway.

_I'm not... going to cry..._

After several moments of reflective silence, Silver pulled his hands away– and realizing that this quiet moping was absolutely no good for his character, he decided that he needed to find a more active way to vent his stress– and all at once.

_I really can't take my own whining, but..._

"MY LIFE, FUUUUU," he yelled, spewing out a long chain of pithy curses. He continued on his rampage, yelling at an increasing rate until behind him, the sound of metal clanked and a light shuffling noise beckoned him to stop. "Huh?" Silver muttered, turning around to investigate. Behind him, jutting from a hole in the wall was none other than Juggler Irwin, who was actually climbing down from an uncovered vent very slowly and very carefully– as if he actually believed Silver would _never_ notice him.

"Hey..." Silver began, frowning at such an insult. "Don't think I can't see you." _And do you REALLY want to avoid me that badly? _he added mentally, further offended.

Irwin recoiled in fear upon being discovered. "Eeek!~ Transform!" he screeched, dropping immediately and rolling away like a red pinball– his four Voltorb following behind.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Silver blasted, perplexed by the aerobatic stunt which Irwin was performing. _Morph Ball Mode?!_ he thought, recognizing the skill from SOMEWHERE. Barring his teeth, he recovered quickly and chased right after the juggler. "Hold it! I... I have something to ask you," he said hurriedly. "Something important–"

"–Eh?" Irwin stopped, startled by Silver's pleading tone.

"Me... I mean... my," Silver stammered, glancing around abruptly. "My face." He pointed at his nose.

"Indeed," the juggler concurred.

"Don't just agree! I haven't even ASKED you anything yet!"

"Oh? But you really did, didn't you know? It was a non-question!" Irwin sang, holding up his hands, "So I gave you a non-answer... It's a turn-based system."

"Forget it," Silver murmured, holding his forehead in defeat. "...Forget I even bothered you." _This juggler is definitely on the same wavelength as Lyra, _he thought. _A wavelength for CRAZY PEOPLE._

"Don't be so glum," Irwin urged the boy, standing up in concern. "It's not a bad face!"

"I said 'forget I even bothered you'!"

"You're so mean! And confusing!" Irwin cried.

Silver dropped to the ground and sat, hugging his knees close under his chin. "Yeah, so what? At least I have 'good looks' to make up for all my failings."

"Oooh. So that's what you're so upset about! Girl problems!" Irwin teased. "Well, I'll let you in on a dazzling tidbit: it's *really* idiotic to get upset over a _compliment!~_"

"THAT WASN'T A COMPLIMENT," Silver snapped. However, as soon as he noticed that Irwin was disturbingly privy on the subject, he stopped to question why. "Wait... How did you know about what Lyra had said to–"

"–I captured it on film!" Irwin cut him off, gleefully holding up his camera. "Awkward moments of tender confessions! A spontaneous photo shoot of newly-discovered love!"

"Give me that. I'll CRUSH it."

"Nooo~!"

Thought Silver easily grabbed the juggler up in a stranglehold and shook him violently, he grew increasingly dissatisfied just as quickly. After careful consideration, he finally understood why. _This man is... incredibly weak! _Silver thought, almost revolted by this discovered fact. _Going into a Team Rocket hideout by himself, in this pitiful form! Is he nuts? Wait, I just answered my own question._.. Huffing, he gave up and let Irwin go. "It's no use crushing you," Silver declared, standing up haughtily. "Crushing the weak won't make me any stronger."

"But you wanted to crush my camera!~"

"You," Silver commanded cruelly, pointing at the juggler. "Develop those photos and next time... give them to me."

"For freeeee?" Irwin whined.

"Especially for free." Silver finalized. "Obey and I'll spare crushing you... for NOW."

"Oh, oh. A question." Irwin interrupted, raising his hand like a student. "Does this make us friends?"

"F-friends?! Hmph. Don't make me laugh." Silver crossed his arms, frowning in embarrassment. "Friends are for weaklings. But, since you're so pathetic... I guess I have no choice but to oblige your absurd request." Because this was how logic functioned. At its finest poorness.

"So I'm your first friend? That makes me so happy! But also kind of sad... For you."

"Shut up!" Silver rejoined, now filled with indignation. Rousing momentarily from his tantrum, however, he soon became distracted by what Irwin was doing now.

After fussing a bit with a level and a feng shui compass, the juggler placed a pokeball squarely on the floor, began adjusting it with precision, and cried out, "Super lucky!"

"Heh?" Silver emitted, motioning an arm at him. "What are you doing now?"

"Leaving goodies on the ground for my _special_ _angel_," Irwin emphasized, tweaking the pokeball to the right. "You see... I'm Lyra's SECRET *fairy* 'godfather' of sorts~!"

"So THAT'S what you do with the earnings from her photos... Disgraceful," Silver lambasted, angered by Irwin's insolence but also relieved that Lyra was somehow being compensated. "Tch. Well thanks to you, she thinks that EVERYTHING on the floor belongs to her. What do you have to say for yourself NOW?"

"But..." Irwin briefly contemplated the idea. "It does!" he answered matter-of-factly.

"Humph! We'll see about that!" Silver said, reaching down and snatching up the pokeball with a spiteful huff. "Hurmph. It's MINE now."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Irwin sobbed with as much control as a four-year-old. "YOU CAN'T, YOU'RE A NPC."

"Well I _just did_," Silver gloated and smirked. "Wait... what the hell is a NPC?"

"Open your menu and go to your items!" Irwin demanded forcefully. "Drop item. Drop item...!"

"Menu?! IDIOT. We're not at a restaurant!" Silver answred confusedly. _This juggler really IS insane,_ he thought._ And now he's making crazy demands that make absolutely NO SENSE in the context of this world!_

"Hey you!" a man's voice boomed and shuddered down the rusty old corridor. "You're that kid! The kid who creamed me on the last mission!" Within moments, the man revealed himself to be just another common Team Rocket grunt in a fashionable black jumpsuit.

"Yeah? Well I'll cream you AGAIN," Silver said and stood up, glaring at the man with menacing intent. "And I'll... CORN you, too."

Irwin's mouth fell open in horror.

_Oh man, that was bad,_ Silver realized in embarrassment._ Lyra's stupidity has rubbed off on me... Hopefully no one IMPORTANT noticed. _Willing to hold true to his ridiculous claim, though, he wound back his arm several times and let it pop and loosen. It was fight time.

"Eeek!" Irwin cried, assuming the fetal position.

"D...dang it..." the grunt grumbled, reaching for his pokeball halfway before stopping. "That's right... That blasted Super Jump Girl wiped out my pokemon earlier... I hate picking on kids, but I'll have to use force–" Out from his left gray boot, he whipped out a mini launcher and aimed it at Irwin. "I'll take out the adult first," the grunt reasoned, "and then–"

Silver sprinted up close. Raising his elbow, he rammed it across the grunt's jaw and then dug it upwards, bloodying the man's nose.

"Hrff–" the grunt groaned and fell backwards, landing on the ground in instant defeat.

"Irwin, get up," Silver said, angered by what had just transpired. "It's dangerous out here. Get back in the wall."

"But–"

"I'll end your life FIRST if you offer it to Team Rocket _again_."

"O...okay!~" Irwin responded meekly, unnerved by Silver's contradictory threat but obeying it anyways. Scampering against the wall, the juggler climbed up into the uncovered vent hole and vanished.

Just then, Silver heard familiar voices talking down the hall behind him. "They're here," he muttered, turning around to look. _So she was coming to this place all along, _he thought.

Out from around the corner walked in a woman with condescending eyes and a jagged red pompadour. It was Silver's evil step-mother.

"Executive Ariana–" an accompanying grunt said but cut himself off; the woman had held out her hand to silence him. As she approached, the other grunts followed close behind.

"Silver," the woman spoke with reserve. "So you followed us here? Have you changed your mind yet? You know it's not too late."

"My hatred for you and Team Rocket," he began, "goes beyond a simple lack of respect. I'll never forgive you for indulging weakness. You understand?"

"Hee hee... What a brat," the woman dissolved into a breathy chortle. "Sounds like you need me to super glue your hair again... Didn't I raise you to always honor your family?"

"No, you raised me to hate everything," Silver answered. "Especially all your stupid pranks... Did you think giving me a cowlick would make me more endearing?" _Thanks to you, I'm stuck with this IDIOT hair, _he added mentally._  
_

"Tch, nothing could help you in _that_ area. But to be honest, I'm actually proud that you've made it this far. You're certainly your father's boy." Ariana's familiar smile dissolved into a sinister scowl. "But your treachery only cements the fact that you're another woman's child. Can you blame me for hating you?"

"I don't care about your feelings," Silver replied. "You delusional hag! As I said before, dad's not coming back for you this time. He needs to find his own strength, since he failed with his foolish idea of milking it out of others... Stop being a nuisance!"

His step-mother gasped, clenching her teeth and fighting back a heartbroken frown; it was taking her everything to keep from crying. For once, Silver actually felt bad for insulting her.

"Give up on him," Silver added finally. "You get it? You're free. Chase that stupid dream you had... Go be ordinary and dote on your weird alien daughter."

"Stop calling your sister an alien!" Ariana yelled, flailing her arms and throwing a tantrum. "I named her Mars to give her some added dignity! Don't take that away!"

"Whatever! I gave you fair warning. I know what you're up to," Silver told her, pocketing his hands. "Turn back now and disband Team Rocket... Or I'll smash you all apart."

"Yes, we've had this conversation before... And as you know, I'm not giving up!" Ariana hissed. "Besides, there's no way your feeble, childish mind could figure out the depths of our plans!"

"You mean... Petrel's Prototype?" Silver laughed. Though he honestly didn't understand MOST of what it entailed, he figured that it couldn't hurt to bluff and throw around some keywords. After all, from what he had overheard during Lyra's sleuthing earlier, there was something grand and terribly confusing going on– and all despite his efforts.

"So you know why we're here..." Ariana shrank back.

"That's why I destroyed the transmitter outside," Silver said, unsure of what else he could say to fish some information out of her.

"Ohohohoh," Ariana laughed into her hand. "What's that you say? You destroyed that little toy? Well that doesn't matter. That's not going to stop us at all! You really don't have a clue do you? I'm done playing with you, _step-son_, because that's exactly what I'm about to do. Step on you!"

_Damn, well that didn't work,_ Silver thought. He hated to admit it, but she was being particularly cunning today. (But not so much with that last comeback, though.)

"You three! Babysit him for a bit. Once I find Petrel, I'll give you the signal to leave," she said, resting her hands on her waist and stalking off. "But you there– follow me." She summoned the fourth grunt to her side.

"You mean ...the signal to meet up with Proton?" one of the leftover grunts asked in confusion.

Whipping her head back, Ariana stared coldly at the clueless man. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she looked ahead and continued forward.

_A meet-up with Proton, huh? But didn't he leave Mt. Mortar to go meet Archer in Goldenrod?_ Silver remembered, realizing that the idiot grunt had made a helpful slip-up. _Wait_ _The Radio Tower... _Silver finally understood. _Are they going to use that mind-control prototype at the Radio Tower? So they can broadcast it somehow? That must be it... Where do they come up with this stuff?_

"Don't think we'll be going easy on you just 'cause you're the Boss's kid," a grunt said as his fellows gathered, closing in on Silver while tugging on their gray gloves. "You've got a lot to learn about how things work around here. We don't put up with brats anymore!"

"Say what you want," Silver muttered, trying to hide his overjoyed state; he was aching for a fight to relieve his tension. "Since there's three of you, I won't feel too guilty about this..."

"About... what?"

"About an unfair fight!" Silver yelled, tearing forward and laying out a beat-down.

_~To be continued...~_

* * *

**Erghh, no feel good. *hunches over and groans* Sorry for the short chapter this time. Geez, they're still in Team Rocket HQ? I wonder how long the Radio Tower arc will last...**

**Many thanks to the butt-load of people who reviewed the last chapter! I feel so self-conscious~! *smiles and blushes idiotically***

**Thanks to Razzledazzy for typing in all caps, Fuffeh for telling all her friends 'bout this story, Sweet but Psycho for chatting and goofing-off with me, The Ama-ri for liking the subtle fluff, Silvera Hikari for threatening me to get back to work, and to Meta-Akira, MarHeavenAngel and iR4WR for always being there to laugh at the x-treme crack.**

**I thank the rest of you who have been sticking around, as well. Like PlatinaBirds, Shineon98, and Wishing for Dreams.**


	35. Chapter 35: The Defenders of Justice

"Muhahaha, we've been waiting for you," the man began, tipping his black fedora's brim. "So, you are Lyra..." Maliciously, he watched the girl who had entered his office. Placing a hand on his laptop's keyboard, he closed out the open window of her trainer profile.

"Nhh... no. I'm Super Jump Girl," Lyra argued, trying her best to keep composed behind her black specs. _Impossible! How did he see past my brilliant disguise?...!_

"I'm not stupid. I _know_ who you are," the man drawled, rolling his eyes upward. "But... Me... You don't know who I am?"

"Hmm..." Lyra muttered, squinting and observing him closely. "A... Gentleman?"

"It is me, Giovanni...!" The man stood up on his chair in outrage, raising his fists as if he was milking the sky. "The majestic Giovanni himself!"

"ALL hail Giovanni, chika chika," the Murkrow in the corner cried, bobbing its feathered head. "Chika-chik. Where's my pen? Faaaaat bird."

"Wahahaha!" The man dissolved into triumphant laughter.

"That... can't be right," Lyra spoke, holding her chin in reflection. "From what I remember... Giovanni was muscular, enough to fill a whole TV screen... As for his voice, it was more of a monstrous growl. And his eyes, they were inhuman and cold..."

"...Huh?"

"But this guy here just looks like a shifty beanpole." Lyra pointed at him.

The man crouched down on his chair, stricken with disbelief.

"I don't sound anything like Giovanni? I don't even look like Giovanni?" he lamented.

"I give you an 'E' for effort." Lyra gave him one thumb up.

"H...how come?" he whimpered, desolated by his failure. "I've worked so hard to mimic him!"

Typhlosion set his solid rump down on the ground and watched the man sob and sulk. This would take awhile.

"Wait..." Lyra whispered, softly bumping Typhlosion with her elbow. "Doesn't he seem familiar? I mean, like someone who screwed with us before..."

"Typhlo-shun..." The pokemon crossed his stubby arms and narrowed his eyes. Scooting in close, he stuck his long snout at the depressed man and sniffed thoroughly.

"Shuuun..." Typhlosion grumbled, instantly recognizing the scent. _This man... He DID screw with us once before... _"Typhlo, typho..."

"Fails the sniff test, does he?" Lyra nodded, hearing out the rest of Typhlosion's explanation. "I see... so he's actually that wacky grunt who harassed the Kimono Girls at the Dance Hall... What a problem."

"Don't call me wacky," the man spat indignantly, clenching his fists.

"Well I don't know what to call you! You're certainly no ordinary grunt," Lyra confessed, confused and wondering what the man even was. "Who are you, anyways?"

"Muhahaha! ...Me?" he revealed, jumping back atop his seat. "–At times, the hostile company peon, Rocket Grunt! ...At other times, the legendary Team Rocket Boss, Giovanni! And sometimes, the guy who steals Proton's food from the communal refrigerator... But my true identity is... Giovanniiii Flash!"

Throwing off his black trench coat, hat, and wig, he revealed his unique Team Rocket uniform underneath– along with his purple hair and similar goatee.

"–The master of disguise, Executive Petrel!" he proclaimed, brandishing a ukulele like a sword. "I'm gonna change, you know?"

"You certainly look like the kind of guy who steals people's food," Lyra admitted. "Terrible."

"Phlo pho shun." Typhlosion retorted. _So that's what you meant by 'shifty beanpole.'_

"I am a Team Rocket Executive!" the man declared angrily. "Aren't you amazed by all the various forms which I have previously assumed?...!"

"Look. There's way too many of you guys to keep track of," Lyra replied, frowning as if she had just been asked to do some unreasonable chore. "Also, it doesn't help that there's another Executive with a 'P' name. Are you guys brothers?" _And where did that ukulele come from?..._

"Wait a minute, you're completely dodging my question!" Petrel yelled dramatically, then placing his hands on his hips and hunching quietly. "And brothers? Proton? ...Did you come into my office just to insult me?"

"Uh..." Lyra adjusted her sunglasses. _What did I come in here for again?... So much has happened. I can't remember for the life of me._

"You must be trying to sneak into the radio-transmitter room." Petrel decided all on his own. "Well, that's not going to happen. That room is protected with a special password."

"Hail Giovanni!" the Murkrow in the corner announced.

"Yes," Petrel agreed. "The password is–"

"Faaaat bird," Murkrow squawked.

"NO, the password is not 'Fat Bird'!" Petrel decried, "You narcissistic fat bird!"

"Fat bird, fat bird, FAT BIRD!"

"ANYWAY," Petrel continued, ignoring the annoying bird pokemon, "the password is–"

"Hail Giovanni." The Murkrow finally got its act together. This time, however, the bird spoke in Petrel's voice instead of its usual squeaky squawk.

"Surprised to hear it from me?" Petrel gloated.

"But that wasn't you!" Lyra pointed at him incredulously. _Just now... it was something else!_

"–Knowing the password won't help you though. The door won't open unless **I **say the password." Petrel beat his chest with his fist arrogantly, ignoring her. "It only reacts to **my** voice."

"Th... This... What am I going to do?" Lyra panicked, holding her head. After a few moments of silent reflection, she smiled, visibly arriving at a viable conclusion. "I know... I'll rip out your voice box."

"THERE'S MANY REASONS WHY THAT IS WRONG," Petrel screamed in terror.

"Heh..." Lyra held her arms out, widening her stance. Sliding forward and growling, she cornered him– her prey.

"Wah! Zubat," Petrel yelled, throwing out a pokeball and trembling, "p-p-protect me!"

"...Typhlosion!" Lyra called out determinedly, punching forward. She then blinked, realizing that he was getting over-leveled. "...I'm calling you back now."

"Pffsh." He shrugged, allowing her to withdraw him back inside his pokeball.

"With an earnest face... bring about a whole new way of thinking–" Lyra blazoned, slamming down a pokeball and bursting it open. "Go! Dunsparce!"

"Zubat, Wing Attack!" Petrel commanded.

"Time to test the... special forbidden technique!" Lyra deepened, clenching her fists and raising them for the ceiling. "Seductive Sekshii Dunsparce Attract Attack!"

Putting on her 'battle face', Dunsparce tensed her eyes and flapped her tiny wings– ferociously shaking her squatty backside.

"That's not an attack." Petrel pointed at the snake. "It's just wiggling its butt."

"Nonsense," Lyra argued. "It's not just a butt...! It's her _asset_."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"Seeing is believing," Lyra laughed forcedly, ignoring the fact that her catchphrase didn't make any sense in context. "Look! Your Zubat can't resist Dunsparce's charm."

Pink hearts wafted over the lovestruck Zubat. Screeching, he opened his wide fanged mouth and flew into the wall, flapping and smacking against it blindly.

His confused struggling was a prime example of young love.

"Impossible!" Petrel frowned. "Your Dunsparce is a lying cheater..."

"Never! Dunsparce is a delicate woman," Lyra admonished. "Body Slam–"

Sailing through the air, Dunsparce raised her blue underbelly and collided into Zubat, bringing the bewildered creature toppling to the ground. Screeching painfully, he fainted.

"What's so delicate about that?...!" Petrel called Lyra out on her fraud. Determinedly, he slammed down his next pokeball. "Koffing–"

"Body Slam!" Lyra charged on, waging their battle further.

* * *

"You asked: 'About what?' Tch..." Silver said, turning his back on the pile of beat up Rocket grunts. "_That's_ what."

"That kid is... tough," the most conscious grunt spoke, his limbs poking up from the mound of living and breathing defeat.

"Ugggh..." the grunt underneath him groaned. The last grunt wasn't even awake to say anything.

"I've wasted more than enough time here," Silver chuckled sinisterly, glancing down the hall. "But I did enjoy the therapy session... It seems you weaklings are good for something after all."

Leaving them behind, he bolted back up into the wall's hole– crawling into the dark passage.

"Irwin," Silver called out inconspicuously. "...Irwin?" No answer came, and after sticking his ear to the passage's floor, no sounds were heard. _He left me!_ Silver realized, his bitterness returning. _Hmph! Some 'friend' he is._

Setting aside his resentment, he crawled forward, trying to think where Ariana and that last Rocket grunt could've gone.

_She said she had to go find that goofy idiot, Petrel... But he's notorious for playing around and never being where he's supposed to be, _Silver reminisced._ I don't get it... What potential did Dad ever see in that fool? To make him an Executive..._

In the past, Silver remembered that his father would lavishly praise those whom he thought were exceptional. The Team Rocket Executive Class, even if it was designed for management purposes, eventually became just another reward for grunts to grovel over.

_That's right... It got to the point where everyone wanted to become an Executive._

_But instead of inspiring strength and success, this only inspired inner corruption and competition. Grunts were foiling each other's missions by handing out information to the public or by vandalizing each other's operations outright..._

_My father placed his trust in his organization, but in the end, their squabbling allowed them all to be defeated by a mere child._

"Trust," Silver thought aloud, losing himself further in the darkness of the vent.

_That girl... and even that dragon trainer. They blindly trust in their pokemon, and in return, they're invincible. Their strength is so honest, that when it crushes you, you realize that your own strength was just an imitation._

_From their point of view... trust is believing that something is strong and reliable no matter what. This itself is supposed to be a strength. _

_But something's missing... Trust alone didn't work for my father... is that where love comes in?_

"This is making my head hurt..." Silver complained, crawling through an area where light poured in through several vents. _I have plenty of other things to worry about... That's right. I have to think. There's two places where Ariana and Petrel could be–_

"He won't pick up his intercom!" a familiar voice huffed. "He's not in any of the offices, and this place is a mess. ...Was it just my imagination, or was the computer lab on fire?"

"It was certainly on fire, madam."

"As I thought! I can't leave these buffoons unattended for even one moment... Tch!"

Crawling underneath the nearest vent, Silver listened closely to Ariana's ranting and her accompanying grunt's toadying.

"Should I page any remaining personnel?" the grunt asked.

"Yes. Do that," Ariana scoffed unhappily. "This is all going astray... Have them search for Executive Petrel. We need to get the Earth Badge Prototype and the makeshift Wave Amp to the Radio Tower... Scientist Gregg should be finished tinkering with it by now..."

"–_**Beep**_," The grunt had pushed the paging device on his belt. "Calling all Team Rocket Personnel–"

_So they managed to scrape something together? _Silver thought._ So that's why they're going ahead with their plans... What ever they managed to build, I have to destroy that as well!_

"Hello? Executive Ariana?" a nerdy voice sprang from the grunt's paging device. "I've built the Wave Amp to acceptable standards, but... I'm afraid the range will only carry out from Goldenrod to its immediate routes."

"Gregg? Only that far?" Ariana leapt in disbelief, carefully considering this sudden news. "I suppose... it's better than nothing..."

"But it's not done yet," the scientist interrupted, "I need the mini maser from the radio-transmittor room."

"Fine! I'll go get it for you," Ariana determined. "Just keep proceeding with the back-up plan."

"Yes. My apologies, Madam... Over and out."

"Let's move." Ariana forged ahead, making her accompanying grunt scramble to keep up.

_The radio-transmittor room?_ Silver thought, crawling silently to keep after them. _That must be the old storage room..._

* * *

"FAT BIIIRD," Murkrow screamed in fear, smacking straight into Lance's boot.

"Fat bird?" Lance asked, gazing down at the flapping, squawking pokemon. Bending low, he scratched the side of its strange, brimmed head to comfort it. "Are you lost?"

"Hail... Giovanni..." Murkrow whispered and clicked.

"That's distasteful." Lance pulled away, frowning in disapproval. "Who taught you that?"

"The Kahuna!" Murkrow screeched and flapped, trying to tell Lance something critical. "Where's... Where's... Where's my pen?" Finished with its important message, Murkrow ran back the other way.

"It's... even more puzzling than Lyra," Lance concluded, furrowing his eyebrows.

"–I dare you to attack me," a heroic voice carried down the hall, "from any side!"

"Of course... Lyra–" Lance realized, hurrying after her.

* * *

"...So, it's time to finish you." Ariana smirked, agreeing with Lyra's recklessness. "However strong you may be, if the two of us fight at the same time, you'll have no chance of winning." She shot a glance at her accompanying grunt, who was helping her surround Lyra in front of the radio-transmittor room.

"Don't you agree?" Ariana asked the man, her smile gleeful. He nodded his head silently.

"It doesn't make a bit of difference," Lyra said, throwing her cape back and tilting her sunglasses. "You two. Go ahead and come at me, all at once."

"Hee hee hee!" Ariana threw her head back and laughed, hiding her mouth with her hand. "Sorry, baby. Now get ready to be thrashed."

Leaning forward, she signaled for her grunt to close in on Lyra. Complying, the man pulled a mini rocket launcher from his boot, sliding the gun's lever until it clicked.

"Hold it!" Lance dashed in, his Dragonite flying close behind as he jumped between. Shielding Lyra, he jabbed forward and bashed the weapon from the grunt's hand– sending it spinning across the floor like a top.

"A two-on-one battle?" Lance held his palm outward. "That is so unfair!"

"Lancer Dragoon!" Lyra called out adoringly, taking off her sunglasses to highlight the moment. "You've arrived!"

Clenching her fists beneath her chin, her abnormally large and glistening eyes bore into his soul, gazing at him expectantly.

"R...right!" Lance found himself tensely complying. "Justice rains from the heavens and lances my foes... Spear Cavalier, Lancer Dragoon! Hark! The Dragon Knight!" He threw back his cape, fluttering it outwards and raising his palm to the ceiling.

"Ke...ke... cooool!" Lyra grasped her face and squirmed. _Lance is so awesome! Oh man! That was inspiring! ...He changed the script slightly, though._

"What? Another super hero?" Ariana gritted her teeth. "You've got to be kidding me..."

Turning his head, Lance shot a glare at the Rocket grunt, causing the man to flinch and pulled his cap over his eyes.

"Hm. Typical of Team Rocket to be so sneaky." Lance shook his head, fully comprehending to situation that Lyra had gotten herself into. "Allow me to join the battle!"

"Tch. I can't believe you had an accomplice," Ariana groused, referring to Lyra. "...Where is your sense of dignity?"

"WHERE'S YOURS?...!" Both Lance and Lyra accused her on cue.

"Stop ganging up on me!" Ariana blasted. "**Grunts** don't count!"

"Hey... I'm right here..." he murmured, deeply insulted by her words but too lowly to talk back.

"Grr... As interim boss in place of Giovanni," Ariana boasted, pulling out a pokeball, "I'll show you how wrong it is to meddle with Team Rocket!" Raising her other hand up, she snapped her fingers, initiating the battle.

"Right then... prepare yourselves!" Lyra threw her arms out. "Dunsparce–"

"Dragonite–" Lance rushed forward.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

Great news! PhantomAlchemist made an... arting. It's part of the story's official art now. It's just been decided. Well, check it out!

phantomalchemist. deviantart. com / # / d39ximf

(Copy/paste and remove the spaces, ossu!)

Another short chapter, sorry... but updates should come faster from now on. See you later!


	36. The Wataru Plan

"Unbelievable," Lyra said, stepping back when Lance's cape swept past. Peering at her raised hand, she saw that the two of them had swiftly pointed in unison at their oncoming enemies: a slithering Arbok and a pot-bellied Drowsee. Lyra shook, overtaken by crazed energy. "I finally get to battle alongside Lancer Dragoon..."

"Ha. You flatter me," Lance said, overhearing her. "Are you ready?" He adjusted his sharp black specs, humoring her yet concealing his amusement. Both his Dragonite and her Dunsparce leapt forward, flapping their wings and growling lowly.

"Hm!" Lyra emitted, nodding her head and adjusting her lenses right back at him. She took to his side, braced herself, and raised a hand in a heroic pose. "Team Rocket. The timer went off, and you were done minutes ago," she declared, light glaring off her lenses with an audible _'shiiiing~'_. "We– the take and bake purveyors of justice– are here to slide your charred remains off into the trash! Lancer?" Like a radio show host, she was hitting him up for an opinion.

"Y... you're toasted," Lance finally said, startled by Lyra's actions and uncertain of what else he was supposed to add.

"Extra crispy," Lyra said and brandished her arm, heralding in an awkward moment between them and Team Rocket.

"... I can't stand people like you," Ariana finally said, unnerved by their bizarre display but eventually regaining her imperturbability. "Arbok, attack that annoying Dunspace, Crunch!"

"Dragonite, Fly! Right, strike–" Lance said and swept his arm upwards, motioning at the vaulted ceiling overhead.

"Whoa," Lyra said with a gasp, distracted by the dragon's nearly invisible launch upwards. _Like Crystal and her team, Lance and his Dragonite are on a much higher level..._ she thought, exhaling in resolve, and then imitating Lance's arm movements. "Dunsparce, left target," Lyra exclaimed, lifting her hands up overhead as if she were holding up the sky. "Super Attack- Omni Body Slam Love Revolution TWENTY-ONE." Leaping through the air at this, the short yellow snake wrenched her puffy eyes shut and slammed belly first into the bamboozled enemy Drowsee.

"Idiot! Stop re-naming your every attack!" Ariana yelled and raged, stomping and raving. "That's just a normal Body Slam! And you're not actually a super hero!"

"Always sucking the magic out of things... You remind me of a _certain_ someone else," Lyra contemplated aloud, studying the Rocket Executive's red, spiked pompadour. _It bares a striking resemblance to Jerkface's honing antenna... _Lyra concluded,_ a Kanto hairstyle?_

"Tch, damn it!" the Rocket Grunt hissed, watching his Drowsee slam face-first into the floor. With a quick hand, he threw out his next pokeball, releasing a cross-eyed Grimer with an oozing jaw.

"Now–" Lance called up to Dragonite, letting him know that the time was right. In an orange blur, Dragonite speared downwards, ramming into Arbok and striking her out.

"Hmph! Thinks he's so strong... Murkrow–" Ariana called and belted out her next pokeball, infuriated by her failure so far. "Take Dragonite down with your Nightshade!"

Wordlessly, Lance directed Dragonite back up into the air at a slicing fast speed. Unable to keep up with him, Murkrow twitched her feathered head and glared at Dunsparce, casting a dark shadow over all of them. Trembling in pain, Dunsparce flailed as the shadow crept under her scaly skin.

"Dunsparce!" Lyra yelped, feeling the creature's pain. _Odd... It didn't drain her health much, but I felt that... _Lyra thought and held her shoulder, shaken. _And what the hell is this? Is Lance going easy on Team Rocket? He keeps letting us take all the hits!_ Standing up straight to stave off her paranoid feelings, she sent Dunsparce charging forward. _No... this must be part of his test. That must be it. _ "Body Slam!"

_I see... to be able to feel such a small attack..._ Lance thought, watching Lyra heedfully. _It means that her connection with her pokemon has strengthened considerably since that battle at the Lake of Rage. But how could she improve so much in a mere few hours? By watching me and fine-tuning from there? Her relationship with her pokemon is abnormally different from most trainers– like a Dragon Master, she connects with her partner on a mental level._

_Except, she becomes their equal extension instead of their controller._

Slamming into Murkrow, Dunsparce spun back and hovered with her tiny wings, landing softly on the ground as Murkrow fainted and dropped belly-up.

_Yes, it's strange, but I've heard of this before, _Lance thought and furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating._ There's a whole nation filled with such empathetic trainers in the west. They even go so far as to keep their pokemon outside of pokeballs. Whoever she picked up the basics from came from this distant nation... and at one point, they must've trained in my clan. _Once again Lance flew Dragonite down, swooping Grimer and splattering the pile of purple ooze across the room.

Ariana exhaled fretfully as reached for the last pokeball on her hip. Glancing aside, she looked at her defeated Grunt. "Go get it," she said to him, secretly ordering him to grab the technology which they had initially arrived for. Obeying her wordlessly, he rushed into the open radio transmitter room.

"Gloom," she called, chucking down her last pokeball. "We'll hold them off–"

* * *

"Light box, check. Pokie markers, check," Petrel said, patting his large purple traveling bag while opening and checking its various compartments. "Wait. Where's my pen?" Grumbling to himself, he set down a big round hat box and checked his uniform's pockets.

"Would you hurry up?" Scientist Gregg complained, hoisting a large, boom box-like machine over his frail shoulders. "We need to get this to Goldenrod, A-SAP!"

"Gregg, as much as I enjoy your blathering," Petrel said, flipping through a thick sketchbook. "I need you to shut up."

"What are you even **doing**?"

"I still need to finish six more pages for this week's chapter of Pokemon Explosion. It's due tomorrow, you know!" Petrel replied, opening a toolbox to reveal a large stash of erasers, rulers, pens, and cutting blades. "But I lost my favorite pen _again_." Due to an invisible distraction, he froze and glanced over his shoulders. "Smells like Murkrow..." He sniffed at the air.

Gregg simply ignored him in favor of grumbling to himself.

"Where's my pen?" a squeaky voice resounded from around the corner. "Where's my pen?"

"FAT BIRD," Petrel called, instantly realizing who it was.

"Faaaaat biiiird," the voice eagerly responded.

"Petrel, what is all _this_?" Gregg nagged, bending low to check through Petrel's various trunks and bags. "Cos...cosplay outfits? You should leave all this behind!"

Murkrow finally came zooming into the hall, bobbing his head and clicking his gizzard. Petrel gazed at the dark bird pokemon, waiting in apprehension. Slowly, he pulled a carrot out of his back pocket and laid it on the floor. Murkrow immediately scrambled to peck and nibble at it.

"Huh?" Gregg uttered, stopping and adjusting his glasses to watch the time-wasting creature.

Murkrow stood up straight, and after some deliberation, stretched upwards. Shaking his tail feathers, he puffed his belly out and silently dropped a pasty load onto the rusted floor. Glistening in the small, tidy pile of doo was a black art pen.

"There it is," Petrel said, instantly grabbing it out. "Murkrow can store items in his belly. Isn't it disturbing?"

"EUAH, GROSS," Gregg groaned, horrified by Petrel's unsanitary actions. Murkrow, almost as if he were pleased by the scientist's disgust, scratched his talons on the rusted floor and did a little jig.

"Calm down now," Petrel said, wiping the pen off on the edge of his shirt. "it's just bird seed."

"_Just_ bird seed?" Gregg exclaimed in disbelief, unwilling the trust the contents of Murkrow's excrement. "JUST bird seed?"

"Yes... now stop your _Chatoting_."

"Har-har!" Gregg spat bitterly; he was not amused.

"Let's go, Fat Bird," Petrel said, kneeling and offering his shoulder to the pokemon. Flapping lightly, Murkrow jumped up onto it and situated himself proudly.

"Yes, fine! Can we go now?" Gregg whined, trembling with apprehension. "You've been wasting all this time, dragging us behind schedule– haven't you heard? It's unsafe here! There's reports of yet **another** brat running around... why, it's a brat INFESTATION."

"What?" Petrel asked with a scoff, putting his hands on his sides. "Are they breeding in the walls now or something?" He felt that the word 'infestation' was an unsuitable choice when referring to children.

In correlation to their discussion, a noise bumped in the wall beside them. Disturbed, the scientist, executive, and fat bird hunched their heads and listened carefully. Nervous sweat poured down Scientist Gregg's face as he filled with terror.

After a moment of thick silence, a black shoe kicked in through the wall.

"Eyaaaagh!" Gregg screamed in falsetto, nearly dropping his heavy machinery.

"I guess they _are_," Petrel exclaimed nervously, stepping back as the air filled with dust and chunks of plasterboard. Out from the wall stepped a scowling, redheaded boy in a dark, red-trimmed jacket.

"... Petrel." Silver said coolly, recognizing him. "You, and all of Team Rocket will make your graves here."

"Boss brat... How nice to see you again." Petrel smiled at Silver, opening his arms to accept the serious boy. "Could you break away from your play and give uncle a hug? Or are you too big for that?"

"FOOL," Silver yelled childishly, stepping away. "You can't influence me, nor can you make such claims. Team Rocket is no longer my family. Just as I have said before... I'll destroy you all!"

"Sfft..." Petrel laughed into his sleeve, glancing away to compose himself. "Sorry... Coming from you, that was just so cute."

Fuming, a vein popped on Silver's forehead as he filled with uncontrollable rage. "Cute?" he sputtered, unable to tolerate the notion; "I was making a death threat, you ASSHOLE."

"Tsk tsk, don't make me wash your mouth out with soap _again_! Say, you're working with that Lyra girl, aren't you? " Petrel asked him, switching topics mid-way. "I was surprised, actually. You've really matured a lot since that time you_ ran away_... With your personality, I didn't expect you to get a girlfriend so soon."

Struck speechless by Petrel's suggestion, Silver's mouth gaped open but remained overwhelmingly silent. With a burning face, he frowned and knitted his eyebrows in an effort to appear angry and indifferent. "You know nothing," he managed to say.

"Sure," Petrel said, shaking his head while abruptly grabbing up his luggage. "I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm a little jealous of you, but... best wishes, anyway." Turning with Murkrow on his shoulder, he smirked as both he and Scientist Gregg dashed down the hall.

"H–hey," Silver yelled, finally realizing that he had been tricked. "I'm not done with you yet...!"

* * *

After a swift and brutal Body Slam from Dunsparce, Gloom impacted the floor and bounced. Squeaking in pain, the bulbous flower pokemon drooled out a final statement before fainting:

"...loom."

"A FRUITLESS effort," Lyra declared pointlessly, commenting on the succulent's demise.

"Tch, you really are strong," Ariana said and held her head, overwhelmed by her crushing defeat. "It's too bad. If you were to join Team Rocket, you could become an Executive." Silently, her accomplice walked up beside her, seemingly tucking something into his boot. Watching carefully, Lyra narrowed her eyes.

"We both know," Lyra replied, jerking her chin back, "that's a lie. You're only saying whatever you can just to buy some time to escape! You're _that_ desperate now that we're in your way."

"Oh?" Ariana said as she silently grinned. "But that's fine," she continued, backing away. "The broadcast experiment was a total success. It doesn't matter what happens to this hideout now."

"Lyra?" Lance spoke uneasily, confused by the cryptic conversation. "What is she..."

"–They're not done yet," Lyra answered and shook her head anxiously. "There's more to their radio wave scheme than this."

Ariana chuckled, somewhat impressed by Lyra's perception thus far. "Yes. We have much bigger plans," she finally let out. "You'll come to appreciate Team Rocket's true power soon enough. Enjoy yourself while you still can... Hee hee hee..."

A far off clank sounded and all the dingy florescent lights went out at once. In the pitch black confines of the four-way hall, all that could be heard was Ariana's slow laugh and various fleeting footsteps.

"Lance!" Lyra yelled, no longer sensing him nearby. It seemed as if he had ran off as well, leaving her in the unsettling dark. After several moments, his far off voice called to her.

"I'm here," he yelled. "They flipped off the circuit breakers, so I'm locating the panel."

Lyra felt herself sigh. There was something eerie about that hallway in the dark. Or any hallway in the dark. _In a confined, narrow space– where all the lights go out simultaneously._ She shuddered in thought; _Even during that fight with Crystal, it was frightening when all the lights went. _

_Vanishing lights... inside a small, compressing space.  
_

In her ears, the phantom sound of something screeching and crunching shook her core. It was an unending sound of movement as enveloping as the ocean yet as harsh as wheels thumping over steel grating. As if running out of breath, her stomach tightened and her chest prickled sharply. _Is this happening again? _she thought._ Breathing slower. It won't stop. _She folded her arms over her head, disgusted by her profuse sweating and trembling legs. Ever since she had lost it in front of Silver earlier, her ability to hold back her mental terror was breaking. _I refuse to succumb to these anxieties... People are not ruled by their memories!_

At last the fluorescent lights snapped back on, flickering and fighting to remain lit all before beaming brightly. Lyra quickly uncovered her head, moving slowly to normalize herself and appear unaffected by her delusions. Lance watched her intently, however, and quickly noticed that something was wrong. After observing her shifty movement for a little while longer, he walked closer.

"Do you have a fear of the dark?" he asked.

Lyra pulled a stiff grin and laughed strangely. "Why ask such a question!" she said before foolishly adding: "I like walking around at night." She felt much better when Dunsparce shuffled to her heels.

"I wasn't asking about the night," Lance said, irritated by her dodgy answer, "I was asking about the dark. Forget it."

"What's the difference!" she responded, posing gravely with her arms akimbo. "But I have an even greater question for you, Lancer Dragoon." Her solemn expression was quickly replaced by childish glee. "Are you satisfied with my test results? Just asking– since you _mostly_ supervised. You were making me do all the leg work, so I figured you were busy grading my super abilities."

The man in question choked. How could a child put him in his place so easily? The guilt from making her fight the brunt of the battle earlier, along with gathering all the passwords, finally caught up with him– compelling him to apologize. "Forgive me, Lyra," he said, catching himself from lowering his head. "I saw how well you were doing, so I just hung back."

"Of course!" She took it all in stride. "Super heroes must have serious methods to test their side kicks. What now?"

"Now all there is left to do is to turn off that odd radio signal." Though he spoke to Lyra with authority, he felt himself faltering in his seriousness to do so. Her childish make-believe which was once lighthearted and fun was starting to feel like a joke. It was as if she had sensed his escapist nature and was now pandering to it with full-hearted enjoyment. _This girl,_ it dawned upon him, _is bad for my ego..._

Lance stepped into the adjacent room, completely aware that Lyra was diligently staring at his back and following. Glancing at the wall of machinery before him, Lance motioned for his Dragonite to check the far right corner. Pacing back and forth, they both searched for a method to shut off the giant generator's sparking yellow plugs and cables. At the end of each one, as they had noticed, sat an Electrode– all of whom were pumping the cables with magnetic energy while screeching like motors. Coming face to face, both Dragonite and Lance lowered their eyes as they acknowledged their only option.

"It's this machine that's causing all the problems. I don't see a switch on it..." Lance stated, crossing his arms as if to brace himself for his following words. "We have no choice. We have to make all the Electrode faint. That should stop this machine from transmitting that strange signal."

"Hm," Lyra emitted, glancing at the glowing green pie charts on the back wall's flat monitors. _But it's strange. That radio signal stopped bothering Typhlosion awhile ago..._ she thought._ And I think Team Rocket pulled some part from this machine. Is this all really necessary?_

Lance, after expressing his sadness over the victimized Electrode, abruptly looked over both his shoulders at the massive machine. "Lyra," he called her to attention, "let's split the job."

"I don't think we–" Before Lyra could finish her statement, the flat monitors on the back wall began to glow red. Starting low at first, hidden sirens began blaring deafeningly as the current on the cables reversed, resisting the electricity flowing from the Electrode.

"What the–" Lance yelled, his voice drowned out by the alarms. Perturbed, he turned to check his frightened Dragonite.

Gazing at the back monitors, Lyra realized that pie charts which had once been only a third filled were now full and flashing red. _That's right, Team Rockets removed a part from the machine,_ she remembered._ Is it causing a disturbance? _"Overload!" she shouted frantically. "It's going to self-destruct, just like a battery in the microwave...!"

"This isn't a battery." Lance frowned, feeling that it was necessary to scold her for such a comment. He strongly disapproved of her experience on the subject. "But I think you're right on that overload part..." Thought he didn't want to admit it, the Electrode were beginning to appear even more strained and tormented. Electricity was wildly arching off their domed heads, randomly shooting up spurts of white flame and causing them to screech even louder.

"Right. So we can't wait any longer," Lyra said hurriedly, withdrawing Dunsparce and sending out Aerodactyl. "We need to remove the Electrode!" Blasting out from his pokeball, the chiseled dragon trilled and flapped his grey wings, immediately gagging on the acrid fumes gathering in the room. Just as Lyra sent him at the first row of Electrode, a massive white flame gathered over their polished heads and bursted outwards. Lyra, who was sent tumbling from the blast, rubbed her dazed eyes as Aerodactyl roared in confusion.

"Removing them won't be so simple," Lance yelled over the still blaring alarms. "I'm sorry. I regret ever dragging you into this– it was irresponsible of me. But I never believed it'd be this dangerous... Leave this up to me and go."

_...What? _Lyra thought, shaking away her blurry and spotty vision, and then watching as Lance held his palms outwards at the machine, outstretching his fingers and bracing himself. _You want me to leave now?_

"Dragonite!" he called deeply, his arms suddenly outlined by a glowing blue light. "Let's go–"

Lyra continued to watch, her eyes widening in disbelief. Once when she was very young, she recalled, there was a time when a powerful storm had gathered over her home's nearby waters, extending across to Tohjo Falls. Since the water had bubbled with violence from the monsters living in it, her father had resorted to summoning the power of a terrible technique to quell them... An unnatural, dark storm to wipe them all out.

Almost as if enacting Lyra's memories, Dragonite slashed blindingly through the air and circled overhead. Spinning around in circles like a revolving disk, the dragon filled the room with a blur of movement; fighting off the growing flames and chaos, he increased in speed and brought a sudden, booming whirlwind into existence.

_This can't be! He's trying to summon such a storm alone?_ Lyra thought and stumbled upwards, stricken with disbelief. _But I know... This can't be done alone–_

_"The Dragon Sky Land Storm,"_ her father had once told her, pushing her toward the cliff's very edge._ "Must be enacted with two dragons..." _Many times her father would bring her to the bluffs of Tohjo Falls in order to break her fear and make her brave– and to pass on everything he had been taught– from his criminal father and siblings, through his many world tours, and up to his time training in Johto._ "Two dragons must wield the storm," _he had said to her, engraving the meaning in her heart._ "Or else the resulting vortex will grow out of control and shred everything in it's path–"_

"I told you to go!" Lance yelled angrily, interrupting her thoughts. "Once this begins, you won't be able to leave!"

"I already can't leave," Lyra said, stubbornly resisting. _Because I won't stand back and watch anymore, _she added in thought. "For a super hero, you sure are quick to die."

"You–" Though Lance wished to scold her for being a pinhead, he had to turn his attention back to Dragonite and the overloading Electrode before him.

"Aerodactyl," Lyra bellowed over the screeching noise, "sync up with Dragonite when I give the signal, tail to tail–"

"Dragon–" Lance boomed, the air chilling and whistling as soon as he began calling the attack, "Sky Land–"

Lyra flinched, afflicted by a squeezing pain in her right ear. A warm sensation trickled out from her inner lobe. As she touched it and pulled her hand away, the warmth revealed itself to be blood. _The pressure in the air space is reaching its highest level, _she thought._ At this time, a changing air pocket has sealed around us. _Looking up, she nodded at Aerodactyl. "I'll be guiding you," she said, grabbing his grey, slab-like jaw and gently positionimg it. "You'll jump..." Without much more warning, she shoved him. "Rocket up and join the circle!" she yelled, bracing herself against the current as he went. "Tail-to-tail Clamp, Lock!"

Connecting and wrapping into the dragon vortex like a film into a reel, Aerodactyl clamped his razor sharp teeth into Dragonite's plump yellow tail. Startled, Dragonite fought to concentrate and bit a hold of Aerodactyl's rock-like tail in turn.

Lance gasped, startled by Aerodactyl's sudden participation. Though clamping onto each other's tails kept the dragons from spinning apart due to their lack of coordination, it was an unorthadox method. _She found a way to compensate for her and Aerodactyl's low skill level, _Lance realized, unable to believe this insane miracle._ He doesn't have the mastery to stay nose to tail with Dragonite, so this was the only way... But where did she learn all this?_

"Sa–" Lyra choked, disturbed by the increase of force in the violent gale, but then managing to speak at last.

"–_Storm_–" the two of them called out over the lashing wind, the both of their voices reverberating together. As their energy cumulated, their dragons' whipping force swept the Electrode from their plugs and ripped up the transmitter machine's long, iron body.

One by one, the Electrode self-destructed in midair, sparking as their flames were vacuumed away.

_~To be continued...~_

* * *

**Special artings alert– more Official Art Work has been added! Check out Vladisnovampir's super cool _Typhlosion and Super Jump Girl_ poster here:**

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	37. Chapter 37: Of Knights and Rivals

Like thunder, the explosion rumbled down the hall before dissipating. Down landed a final chunk of iron, clattering and rolling. Lance and Lyra, laying head to head on the floor, stilled their breathing as their dragons glided down from the air and stood over them. Tucking in their wings, they watched their trainers with concern. Rapidly breathing, the two trainers slowly regained hearing in their ringing ears.

"You did good," Lance finally said, reaching up to pat Dragonite's lowered snout. Lyra simply held her fist up for Aerodactyl to headbutt gently.

"Hey. I told you," Lyra managed out, "your roar is the roar that will pierce through time."

Aerodactyl smirked at her inane statement and nodded slightly, lowering his neck in the same way he did when he was ready for riding. Grabbing a hold of it, Lyra pulled herself up and dragged her unresponsive legs closer to his body. Aerodactyl, being tired himself, balked under her weight before forcing himself to remain still.

"Lyra–" Lance jumped to his feet, hurrying to help lift her.

"I've got it," she insisted; sensing his horror, she forced herself to stand up straight "Whew. Though that was anything but boring, my legs went to sleep," she stated. "Heh. Such slow nerves. That's why dinosaurs have a second brain in their... backs."

"...What?" Lance flatly responded.

"Dinosaur pokemon have brains in their backs so they can move. If they had only one brain, then they couldn't keep going forward." Lyra proclaimed seriously, patting Aerodactyl's lower back. It seemed she believed that there was another brain in there.

Lance immediately began to worry that Lyra was having issues with her own brain. Only after some thought did Lance realize that she was referring to an outdated scientific belief.

"Who... taught you that?" he asked, shaking his head to sort out all the suddenly surfacing questions. "No. More importantly: who taught you all _that_– just now– even when I first met you. There's no way it's all a fluke." He took a step toward Lyra, but stopped when she froze. He understood that he was being pushy, but he still wished to know, even if it meant making her feel uncomfortable. "Such techniques are guarded carefully by the Dragon Master Clan so that the public doesn't know..."

Lyra stared at Aerodactyl's stoney back, moving her hand along it slowly before massaging diligently. It seemed she wanted to give the dragon her full attention instead of answering.

"Tell me," Lance demanded urgently. "Who taught you what you know?" Waiting, he grew uncomfortable and alienated with each retreating moment. Finally, the girl lifted her chin. It wasn't a lurch in movement, but it wasn't exactly restrained. Lyra had sensed the displeasure in Lance's questions; it was understandable since she was an outsider.

"My dad said," she explained, "that though your brain helps you move forward, it's your gut that gives you the strength and drive to. Being stinking rich helped, too, jokingly enough, but to live... You should have– You should go many places and _at leas_t learn everything. Then, you can give these things to your children as gifts... Those things were all presents. To be used for..." She stopped, unable to continue her rambling.

Lance gulped down a lump in his throat. Though he was enraged that someone had smuggled Dragon Master Clan secrets home to a child as mere 'gifts', he was overwhelmed by intense estrangement. Lyra's voice was apologetic and yet at the same time, desolate. It was hard to believe that she had ever been filled with boundless energy and all that foolish bravado.

_Her father is... _Lance decided to drop the subject. It was apparent that her father was no longer in this world. Even if that man had broken the Dragon Clan's oath of secrecy, it could be forgiven just this once. _For someone I trust... it's useless to hold it against her. And there's truth in what her father said. I more than likely owe her my life for what she did today... _

"That odd signal," Lance began uneasily, walking over and putting his hands on her shoulders in an effort to console her, "has finally stopped. The lake should be back to normal."

Lyra nodded her head with as much soul as a tree branch.

"You're the best!" Lance declared, suddenly becoming angry and in turn confused. His random outburst had startled the girl enough to make her sentient again.

"Did I pass?" she finally asked, almost as if she had just woken up.

"Pass?" He fought to suppress his angry confusion. Finally he remembered. _So she honestly thinks I'm still looking for a sidekick? ..._

"Well?" She recovered and turned around, standing on her tip-toes in a great effort to cajole him. "Didn't I work hard and keep up with you? I did, right? And my team, too. We have sidekick potential. Yes?"

"Of... course. But that–" he weakly asserted, bending back as she pressed closer; it seemed she was about to grab his collar and shake him. "You passed." He quickly caved in. _I'm... the adult here. So why–_

"Great!" She became chipper once again, heroically holding her sides. "So when do I start?"

"Maybe when you're eighteen?" Lance answered, still unable to effectively say no.

"What?" Lyra bellowed, tugging her cap down over her head. She then brought her fingers close to her face, mumbling quietly to herself. "One, two, three... Only four years left. I should be Champion by then, with some time to spare... And extra savings... Then I'll retire early and fight crime."

_She's __**fourteen**__?_ Lance froze from excess shock. _And I believed her to be age ten and precocious... I'm relieved, that she's older than that. But still, there's a nine year age gap between us... Wait. Relieved? What am I thinking? _

_And why is she already planning for retirement?...!_

"Let me thank you on behalf of all the pokemon." Lance abruptly changed the subject, squatting down to her height so she would stop trying to push herself at him. "Oh, yes." He remembered that he had something to distract her with. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a disc player. "You should take this." He promptly shoved it at her. "I found it here, but I don't have any need for it."

Lyra glanced down at the Hidden Machine, HM05. With an unimpressed expression, she dropped the device into her bag.

_She's not happy with it?_ Lance became increasingly alarmed. "That's Whirlpool–" he began, trying to sell her on it.

"–Can you thank me in a," she interrupted and paused, "different way?"

Lance froze and filled with astonishment. He abruptly became aware that he was alone in the room with her, as the only other human.

"I... That is," he answered awkwardly. "If you want."

"No, I should be saying that." Lyra held her head down. "It might be uncomfortable for you, and it's a strange request... You don't have to do it."

At that moment, he lost all feeling in his legs. "You can decide that," he said. "I'll do whatever you want." _I see... so it's already this way for me._

"Can you lift me up?" she finally asked, squinting her eyes shut in worry. "...And sit me on your shoulder?"

"Of course." He smiled, deeply relieved by her innocent request. Without another word, he grabbed her thin waist and pulled her up onto his left shoulder. It was until the younger girl was situated that he realized he'd have to hold her lap. The guilt and shame from it shook him._ I shouldn't. Isn't this wrong?_ _To be this aware–_

"Thanks," Lyra muttered shakily, wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned her head against his. "You remind me of my dad."

The air escaped from Lance's lungs, along with any bit of happiness that had been left from the moment before. There was nothing happy about her harrowing words.

_Her Dad?_ He agonized silently, wondering if he really looked that old.

"I feel that I can trust you. It's odd. You're the first adult in a long time." She placed a hand on his head and felt at his spiky red hair. Undoubtedly, she was surprised to find that it was so soft. "My dad would carry me like this. He said that super heroes were even better at it. It's true... I'm glad."

_That's right. I'm an adult, and she's a child. It's not fair to me, or her._ Lance knelt down and carefully slid her off, placing her feet back on the ground. _I can't be around her anymore. This can't be allowed. There's too many years between us, in two ways. I'll stop this for now because..._

_I absolutely won't abuse her trust._

"Lyra..." he said, looking straight ahead at the door. "The journey to becoming the Champion is long and difficult. Knowing that, will you keep going?"

"..." Lyra tugged at her wrinkled overalls and gave him a stern and insulted stare which caught him off-guard.

"With," she began, throwing back her cape, "the lowest of intentions, I came from nowhere– a tiny crap hole called New Bark Town. But all the while, my dreams and resolution were boundless. Over time, my intentions raced and caught up. So–" she declared, raising her clenched fist:

"I'll keep going forward. Whoever the Champion is, I'll meet him face to face and tell him: I won't lose! And I know– I'm being completely presumptuous. But limits and acceptable bounds were meant to be tested!"

"I see," Lance coughed, fighting back laughter at her absurd and self-deprecating speech. "No, you're right. If you would give up that easily, you would have never chased that dream in the first place. _And as for the Champion, you've told him well..."_

Lyra tilted her head, confounded by his last murmured statement; though she was listening carefully, she hadn't caught it. Kneeling on his right knee, Lance looked up at her and slid his hand into hers.

"I look forward," he said, pulling her fingers towards his mouth, "to seeing you again." _I'll wait for you. And then you can decide._

Lyra's eyes widened as he kissed them.

_What?_

Turning sharply, his cape billowed outward as he and Dragonite strode away– disappearing down the open hall.

_Is that right?_ Lyra though in wonder, staring at her warmed hand. _He's actually a knight after all? Just like in those old stories... How can that be?_

_I'm happy by this, so much so that it's surprising me. But–_

Her expression faltered as disenchantment sank in her gut. _I actually want to feel something like this from... Jerkface._

Lyra's knees caved and her balance faltered. Leaning backwards she fell, hitting her head on the rusted floor with a solid thump. Because Lance had been by her side, she had held the pain and fatigue in. But now that he was gone, there was no longer any need.

Trilling incessantly, Aerodactyl hovered over his fainted trainer and nudged her twice. After the girl let out a light snore, he wrapped his wings over her and waited.

* * *

"Cowards... Escaping in the darkness like that," Silver complained, knocking on the wall as he went along. "They never change..." Secretly, he was checking for Juggler Irwin as he knocked and listened. But first and foremost, he was trying to find the location of the loud explosion earlier. After all, explosions were Lyra's signature.

_Could that Dragon Trainer have been with her?_ he arbitrarily wondered, quickening his pace. His mind wandered as much as his feet. _What if he's still with her? What if they're alone together now?_

Outraged by his own thoughts, he rampaged down the hall in no particular direction. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to go, but he knew that putting his anger into it would make himself feel better. Just as he had stormed down a stretch of hallway and past the radio transmitter room, he stopped and stepped back. Out of the corner of his eyes, he had seen a crumpled figure on the floor within.

"Lyra." Silver hurried inside the wrecked room. Hunching beside her, he shook her shoulders while watching her for movement. Only after she let out a short snore did he lessen in his worry. "I can't believe you. Always falling asleep wherever you like. No human does that..."

"Tchyaaa," Aerodactyl trilled, forcing his hideously huge snout into Silver's hair. Deep puffing noises rattled in the boy's ears as the creature sniffed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Silver jumped, startled and falling backwards. Only after looking up at the flying beast did he understand that it had been standing guard all this time. "... Have you been protecting her?"

Aerodactyl turned his head sideways and stared at Silver with one eye.

_What a creepy pokemon. I can't get used to it_.Silver flinched, disturbed by the intelligent look in its eye. He couldn't tell if it was going to lecture him or bite his head off. _Could it be that Lyra think this pokemon is cute?_

"I'm going to take Lyra now," Silver said carefully, sliding his hands under the girl. "Since it's bad for her to lay here... That is– if it's ok with you." _This is ridiculous... Why am I even asking this thing for permission?_

Aerodactyl nodded silently, which reminded Silver of Feraligatr's own quiet habit. Randomly, the boy was also reminded that these two pokemon had similarly sharp, razor teeth. Shaking at the thought, Silver's bandaged hands throbbed once more. _I guess I can't lift her this way,_ he thought painfully, instead slinging Lyra over his shoulders like a sack.

Silver's unromantic technique struck Aerodactyl as inherently funny– so much so– that the large lizard snorted at him.

"Hmph. As if you could do any better," Silver grouched. Taking his first step, the rival stopped when he felt Lyra's hand slide down his back and slowly down his hip. _Huh?_

She patted his rear twice. "Bongo," she droned. "Hff..."

Silver shook, unable to comprehend the action; this would be the second time that she had violated him in her sleep. _You PERVERTED girl,_ he raged.

"Take responsibility for your actions!" Silver spat, turning red from the humiliation. "What are you even dreaming about? Drums?" _How could you make such a grave mistake?_ He didn't even bother scolding Aerodactyl for laughing and shrieking amusedly.

"You..." Silver begrudgingly addressed Lyra, unable to finish what he wanted to say. _You took my first kiss. As stupid as it is, that's what made me really start hating you. _

_But I guess it's not hate. Though... it's something just as strong._

"...I swear I'll get you for this." Silver hastily concluded his statement. Taking Lyra away, Aerodactyl swiftly followed behind him.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

Whatever, Silver. We know you liked it. :I

Congratulations to Idoloni for being the 100th story faving person. You get...

LANCE'S ABS:

*Megaman 4 Get Weapon theme plays*

DO DO DO doo

DO DO DO DO DO DO doo

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	38. Chapter 38: Dragon's Blood

Burning and flickering, the room's torches threw light across the backs of two life-sized Gyarados statues. Against the east and west walls they stretched, their scaly enameled backs glistening in the light. Sitting seiza, Lance bowed and looked up at the bearded old man seated before him: the Dragon Clan Elder.

"Grandson," the old man grumbled deeply, yet strongly. He furrowed his massive, wispy white eyebrows and frowned sternly ahead. "With each day I'm arriving nearer to my final peace. I feel fortunate that you have finally decided to see me in these end days."

"Grandfather, it's useless to try and make me feel guilty," Lance scolded, frowning in the same manner. "We both know that you have more than enough life left in you."

"Is that so? So you're paying me a visit on account of business, is it?"

"How you've grown ever more cynical. I never said that. Haven't I visited you twice this past month? I have. I visit you more than you'd like to think. But... your thinking is correct on that last part."

"Yes. I'm used to my _grandchildren_ stopping by for whatever it is that they momentarily desire– all before leaving me here– much like an old box in storage!"

Clair snidely snorted at her grandfather's remark. Against the back wall she leaned, with her arms crossed, listening in all the while. There was something to be said about how she viewed the old man. _He's being ridiculous and dramatic, as usual_, she thought critically.

"You wouldn't _be_ in storage if you got out more," Lance said, his tall posture caving. Putting up with his grandfather's endless guilt trips was proving to be a physical effort. "On all sides of this little shrine, there's nothing but water. And for worse– the hot springs mix with the cold current from Ice Path, and you get this terribly dank, humid air. It can't be good for your health."

"Nonsense. The humidity works wonders for my sinuses," the clan elder stubbornly refused. "But very good, my grandson. You have well mastered the art of burdening a man through conversation."

"I learned from the best."

"Ha ha ha," the old man slowly but joyously laughed. "So what is it that you came here for, Lance, my boy?"

"It's... in regard to the clan's two master techniques," Lance began, averting his eyes and staring down at the floor's well-worn planks. "I wanted to know more about their history."

"The Dragon... Sky Land Storm and the... Sky Dragon Balancing Step, correct?" The elder pulled at his cottony beard in remembrance. "One of which you have mastered, and the other... Hm! Needs work."

"Yes, well–"

"–Learning history does indeed prevent repeatable mistakes." The old man interrupted. "But history can also blind one with... overconfidence."

"That is very wise, grandfather," Lance said, his patience waning. "But I'd really like to get to the point of my coming here."

"Fine, fine. Get over with it."

"Right. What I wish to know, is..." Lance looked up, frowning as he tried to find the words. "Is if there ever was a foreigner who mastered those two techniques. More precisely, a man from the west."

Hesitating, the clan elder froze and held his breath before answering. "... ...Well," he finally said. "I always imagined that you may of had some memory of that incident."

"Incident?"

"About twenty years ago, was it? Ah, Clair wasn't born yet, but you could freely walk and talk." The old man folded his arms behind his back and stretched, readying himself. "There _indeed_ was one man who, with sloppy methods, managed to learn those techniques. But there was also an incident after which he was banished... The breaking of the shrine god's seal. Do you remember that day?"

"That was because of him?" Lance rushed, growing anxious. In his early childhood, he remembered a long, wooden bridge with towering, bird perch gateways running across the water. Past these and in the center of the bridge stood an ancient prayer hall. But, one day, the bridge and everything had exploded and collapsed– its broken pillars left to hopelessly reach up from the water since.

"As a pupil, he was slothful and irresponsible. Young and foolish... but he was not a bad man. Still, his actions wrecked the Heavenway Bridge and the shrine god's haiden, forever branding him as a traitor. That is why his accomplishments are never recognized nor celebrated by our clan," his grandfather explained, his frail shoulders drooping with disappointment and perhaps regret. "It was through sheer fortune that this main building was spared... and even though it took our combined efforts to reseal the shrine god's portal, our success was owed to the survival of this very building– the god's home."

Lance reflected on his grandfather's words, agitated and wondering if this traitor was really Lyra's father. There was no evidence, yet it made sense. _An exiled man, especially of that nature, would have no qualms with sharing clan secrets elsewhere._

"But that doesn't quite answer your question, does it?" The old man stroked his cottony beard once again. "You look disappointed. Were you expecting to hear something greater about this man?"

"I suppose I was," Lance admitted with a troubled frown. "At least, I was expecting to hear something _good_."

"Ah... _Here's_ something good." His grandfather leaned forward. "As a brat, you enjoyed pestering him, especially during his training. I say he was not bad man, all because of how well he put up with you. You see, he invented many games to keep you busy. Mostly hero games. You never grew out of them, did you?"

"Was that him?" Lance realized. _Lyra's father was also that teenager I played with... Vaguely, I remember he came from a land across the ocean. Lugging a giant drum on his back, he said he could never leave it behind, and whenever he played it, there was a feeling of shame._

"...Is he really gone from this world now?"

"Yes... Though I heard that he'd settled down and had a family, the Dragon's Den calamity wasn't the last scandal to befall him. So he died before his time," the clan elder huffed and shook his head. "You know, I never understood why he broke our shrine seal. Too late to ask now, I suppose! 'The slowing of the heart of time,' he had mentioned. Back then, I didn't want an explanation, so I ordered him silent. But now I wonder... Because of him, our clan has been in decline, so I want a decent explanation for _that_."

Lance was ready to leave. His question had been answered, and he knew where his grandfather was heading with this rambling about the clan's decline. It was an obvious issue; the hostility towards non-blood members, or 'outsiders' as they were called, made it difficult to recruit them. It was far easier to just be born into the clan.

"Yes, anyhow," Lance said, standing on his knees. "I've been away from the League for far too long, so I should be heading back now... Thank you for sitting with me, grandfather."

"Bah, I'm always sitting! You were the one who was sitting with _me_," the elder spat in outrage. "But yes, run off again! Keep refusing to understand the seriousness of our clan's dwindling lineage! And as my existence fades, be content with leaving me with no great grandchildren! I'll just sit here and dream about what _could have_ been."

Troubled and embarrassed by his grandfather's expectations, Lance closed his eyes and scowled. "I knew you were going to lecture me about this again," he said, trying to retain his dignity. _It's partly why I don't see you as often anymore!_

"Ah. So your guilt and conscience still works," the elder scolded. With a shaky hand, he reached behind his back and grabbed a tea cup, from which he slurped noisily for several moments. "At this point," he said. "I don't care if you even marry an _outsider_. Though, she should still prove herself to the Dragon Clan. For obvious reasons."

Clair choked loudly at this. Inhaling sharply, she threw open the sliding door and stormed out.

"Clair!" the old man gasped. "I didn't mean that–" Though he called out to her, she was already gone. It was too late to take back his offensive words.

Lance finally stood up to leave. "I understand the prejudice against outsiders more clearly now," he said. "I was blind to the fact that one had defiled this shrine, even. As a whole, they've caused many problems for us, but... Clair has worked hard enough to distinguish herself, despite being held accountable for her mother's wrongdoings. I agree with you, that it's about time we ignore blood-status when deciding the future of the clan..."

Leaving his grandfather to reflect in silence, Lance found Clair outside the shrine at the water's edge. Bobbing her head downwards and kicking her foot slightly, it seemed as if she was trying to cool down before riding away.

"Clair," Lance called, stopping beside her. "Grandfather is rough and traditional. Being from such a long family line, it's hard for him to understand the pain. But I'm certain he wasn't trying to hurt you–" Grabbing her shoulder, he yanked her around, only to be instantly stricken dumb by her tear-streaked face.

"Pain... I'm not so weak," she sniffled, quickly rubbing her eyes on her arm. "That old man isn't my grandfather. He doesn't really approve of me." At the rate she was rubbing, it seemed as if she were trying to outright punch and defeat the source of her tears.

"But he does approve of you. He calls you his granddaughter, doesn't he? When you pass the challenge, he'll call you a Dragon Master as well."

"It's all a lie! He's only honoring his son's wish. No one here is truly my family," she spat. "They all pretend until my back is turned. I'll have to get stronger if I'm to be accepted. That's the real truth."

"No it isn't." Lance shook his head. "I'm not pretending. I accept you as you are, and I always have. I don't care where you came from."

"I meant everyone else!" she snapped, scowling in embarrassment. Blindly walking a few steps away, she stopped so she could keep rubbing her eyes.

"You shouldn't do that. You'll get wrinkles."

"So noisy! ...Leave me alone." She sulked, turning her back on him completely.

Lance paused when he realized that he had seen this exact scene before.

_Wasn't it also from... that grouchy boy I met? Silver. He cried into his arm just like this, and right after punching me in the face. But Clair has always been like this– lonely, and with a hot and cold temperament. Ever since we were little..._

"Clair, it's unhealthy for you to bottle yourself up like this," he warned, approaching her once again. "If you keep blaming and over-working yourself, you'll break your spirit. It's important to relax and find peace every once in awhile."

"Ha. Lecturing me as always. You can easily say all that because you're both the League Champion _and_ the next Clan Elder... Lance, the favored one!" she provoked proudly. "Everyone prays for your success, so don't get so puffed up."

Giving her eyes one final rub, she spitefully pried them open just so she could see his wounded expression. Though she had indeed hit a sore spot with him, she had consequently encouraged him to get in her face.

"I don't understand this." He frowned, genuinely baffled. "You've been so antagonistic lately. I miss the old days when you would follow me around. You were more tolerable then. Also you were shorter."

"HEY," she raged, backing away. "I've grown up and things have changed! Don't come any closer! Two meter distance!"

"Do you hate me now?"

"I... I don't hate you," Clair spat. It was impossible to tell if her face was red because of all her rubbing or her crying.

"Good," Lance said, nodding his head once. "Even if you won't think of me as family, I'd like you to at least think of me as a friend."

"Fine! I never meant that, but whatever makes you happy," she retorted, cooly crossing her arms. "Just stand back, r-right over there." She glanced at a spot several steps away.

"Why?"

"You make me nervous."

"So you _do_ hate me."

"Idiot," she scoffed, shaking her head and trying to stay objective. "So why did you come here, anyway? For you to ask the old man all those strange questions... Is something up?"

"Sharp as usual," Lance marveled, pulling his cape collar closer around his mouth. "Remember I told you about Team Rocket's rumored resurgence? I followed that shipment lead I uncovered and _indeed_ I found their head quarters. However... I also found a young girl with proficiency in the two clan techniques_–"_

_"–_What?" Clair flatly interrupted.

_"_Yes, it's difficult to admit, but I would've failed without her help. I seriously underestimated Team Rocket. Because of that, I tackled them unprepared."

"Of course you did. Pompously charging after them with only one dragon..." Clair scoffed. "But what the heck did you just say about a girl? You must be joking." _How could some kid possibly know the secret clan techniques?_

"I'm certain she's the daughter of that man..." Lance turned and walked a few steps away, leaving Clair even more perplexed. "Clair, I need your help. I can't explain why, but I can't look into this anymore. Not personally, at least." _Because if that girl is there... I don't know how I'll handle myself._

"What? All this weird talk and... Oh, I get it." Clair suddenly smirked. "Did that little girl get you upset? I'll die laughing if she seriously knows both techniques. Especially with what happened to you _last time _you attempted the Balancing Step–"

"–That's enough," Lance snapped, briskly walking up and pinching her nose. There were pressing matters to discuss, and a retelling of his failure wasn't one of them.

"Ow!" she cried; "Do you have a death wish?"

"Listen to me." He demanded impatiently, letting go. "Team Rocket's operation was broke up in Mahogany Town, but... I believe they re-stationed elsewhere. Furthermore, I tracked their phony salesclerk through Ice Path, though I lost him earlier on Route 45."

"How could you possibly lose him there?" Clair groaned. "You should've been able to cut him off or trap him on a ledge." The route in question, being steep and split down the middle by a river, was difficult to navigate for most people. However, since it was directly south of Blackthorn City, the two of them had spent countless hours playing there as children. She always thought that he had learned the area as well as her.

"That place has always been your domain. I actually get lost whenever I go there without you," Lance confessed. "Clair... Team Rocket can't be stopped without you."

Considering his request, she nodded slightly and took a deep breath.

"Fine. I'll take over from here," she said. "But... it's not because I want to help you. Or anything... It's because Team Rocket's annoying. You should've told me about this sooner. You've wasted precious time."

* * *

Stepping out into the fading sunlight, the pokecenter's door whirred closed behind Silver. Gazing up at the rattling tree leaves overhead and numbed by the chilling wind, not a single thought moved in his mind. In his gut, the solemn feeling of being powerless pulled at him. In his chest, the confusion over his concern for Lyra crushed him. At last, his mind finally formed words.

_It's not like... Lyra's on her deathbed or anything... _He thought, recalling what had just transpired inside the pokecenter. _That's right. Though she was still asleep, she moved around a bit. At one point, she even grumbled 'pasta' and tried to eat my hair. The nurse said everything would be fine, that it was just a typical case of blacking out and there were no injuries, so why am I..._

"Why am I **freaking out **so bad?" he yelled to the heavens, holding his face and nearly collapsing from a panic attack.

_I want to see her well again. I want to see her awake. And I can't help but feel that... she shouldn't be allowed outside __ever again__!_

"I'm getting worse," he huffed, trudging up the hill. "This rivalry is getting worse."

Though the details were sketchy, he knew for certain that Lyra had done _something_ to blow up the machine in Team Rocket's radio transmitter room– he just wasn't sure what her sudden case of Loser's Sickness had to do with it. The possibility that Lance may had been there was bothersome as well. It seemed unlikely that Lyra of all people had fainted from mere shock.

"I know what's wrong," Silver grumbled, boiling with resentment. "There's an extreme lack of communication in this rivalry. She never tells me what's going on, or even what she's thinking. How am I supposed to know? Does she even care about us? Hmph! I give up. I don't care either."

Cranky and fraught with dissatisfaction, Silver continued up the hill and past the phony gift shop. Standing before Route 44, he stopped to wallow further in his depression and to continue feeling quite left out of Lyra's life.

_Fine. Whatever. _He pensively frowned and pouted some more. _This changes nothing. I'll just continue chasing Team Rocket as usual. To Goldenrod, then– _

Just as he thought this, his eyes caught the faraway figure of a familiar man in a karate gi. This man, scratching his head and looking around, bumbled over the eastern route's dirt path and disappeared behind a thicket of evergreens. It wasn't until the man left that Silver remembered where he had seen him before– that this man was one of the undercover Rocket grunts who had been attending the town's phony gift shop.

_That's right. He was also that weakling being dragged across on the ground back when I was destroying their stupidly fake tree,_ Silver thought, tightly clenching his fists in anticipation. _But he should have left already... He should be on his way to Goldenrod with the other grunts._

Watching the evergreen trees shake relaxedly in the breeze, a startling understanding came over Silver. Like a rock, it pitted him on the side of his highly dense head.

_Hold it. That weakling's heading towards the Ice Path, isn't he? What the hell? _Silver instantly knew what was wrong with the man's flighty behavior. _He's going the wrong way! _

"Incredible. I know exactly what this is," Silver said, growing increasingly outraged. "He's a deserter... A coward fleeing the organization."

_It's people like __him__ who failed my father._

There was no reason for Silver's anger. Deserters were admittedly good news for Silver's cause, but his judgement was already swept away by churning rage. Before he was aware of anything else, he was already stomping down Route 44 and yelling obscene threats with all the sharpness of his foul mood.

"Huh?" the man in the karate gi muttered, looking over his shoulder. _Is someone barking orders at me?_

"That's right, YOU," Silver blasted, shaking his fists at the man. "I'm going to kick your a**!"

"Eyah!" the man yelped, quickly turning and running away. _That kid's got scary-looking eyes! _

"COME BACK HERE." Silver tore after him. Breaking away from the thicket of evergreens and scuffling along a pocketed pond's shoreline, the two men clamored off towards the hazy entrance of Ice Path.

_~To be continued...~_

* * *

**MarHeavenAngel** was the 200th review. Oh yeah! You get...

A flip from Silver. Whooo! Look at him go:

i56. tinypic. com/2zfmurn. gif

_Why wasn't the 100th review celebrated? I don't know. _:S

Man, I'm tired. Lousy tax week!

You guys are something else, to have read all this... I wouldn't be able to continue this story without you. Thanks again for reading. Until next time!


	39. Chapter 39: Cold as Ice

Overhead, jagged icicles hung, illuminating the cave with striking blue light. Only further in did the they dissipate, shortening until they were chiseled ripples flowing around the cave walls like rough ocean waves.

Trills and purrs echoed in Silver's ears, irritating and nearly deafening him. For however lonely Ice Path looked, it made up for it by being overwhelmingly loud.

"What do these pokemon do all day long? Fight and make terrible noises?" he insulted, ignoring the fact that he often did the same thing.

Stepping onto a large frozen pool, he skated across, reaching and leaning onto a boulder solidified in the middle. Steadying his footing, his arms let go, feeling at the familiar frozen air. Memories, like the cold, were numbing to the senses; staring at the popping veins in his wrists made him remember this.

_'Human veins, blue like the ice, surface in the cold.' She told me that. _Thinking of his mother's words, he hunched and he slid away again.

_This cave is a lot like the one on our island. You took me there, every once in awhile. I can still remember. _Hand in hand– mother and son– they stepped on ice and slid, silently stumbling. If he laughed or spoke, she would slap him or warn him that creatures would come to eat him. Constantly reaching upwards while holding onto her hand was tiring; like most adults, she never understood this. It always felt like his arm would fall off.

With the island's tropical weather, stepping out from the cave each time was a warming experience. His skin always felt cooled– even more refreshed than after a swim– as she led him back to the house. _And after you left, I thought about entering that cave. It was so lonely– I wanted to feel that refreshing feeling again. But I feared you'd never come find me if I disobeyed you._

"But it didn't matter, anyway," Silver muttered. _You never came for me... Only that man– Dad. But at least __someone__ remembered me. _

Rubbing his arms together, he sulked and fought to keep warm. _What a waste of time. If I wanted to whine and worry, I should've stayed in Mahogany by Lyra's side..._ Entering this cave had cooled his temper, making him realize what a senseless detour it was.

_I should be on my way to Goldenrod– just like that deserter I'm chasing. I shouldn't care, but... It's that worthless idealism. _He still felt that inescapable, wounded pride. He had watched his father emotionally crumble as his criminal ring fell apart– unable to do anything about all the traitors and failure. Silver wanted to go beyond all that.

"I'll have to make it quick." He made a compromise. "I'll crush that deserter and get back on my way to Goldenrod–"

Sliding off the ice, Silver scowled when he noticed a brown lump on the ground.

"What the crap is that?...!" He dodged, rolling and landing on his side. Clenching his teeth and looking closer, he found that the lump was a breathing creature– a miniature Swinub. Snorting and huffing, it dug at the ground, wriggling like a conscious potato.

"You little turd lump," Silver spat, crouching over it. "I almost stepped on you. Watch yourself. Next time you might not be so lucky."

Ignoring him, the creature continued sniffing and digging at something in the ice. Upon closer inspection, Silver realized that it was a berry.

"You're pretty small compared to the other Swinub... Must be a defenseless runt." Silver shook his head. "Not even strong enough to forge for food, are we?"

Squeaking, the Swinub worked harder, pushing his snout at the ice, though he was far too weak to do much. Unable to take it any longer, Silver reached for Feraligatr's pokeball and unleashed him.

"Put this runt out of his misery, will you?" Silver commanded. "Crush him with your Strength–"

Raising his scaly arms, Feraligatr growled and slammed the ground, crushing ice and permafrost, splitting everything into chunks and pieces. Staying still, Swinub gulped and tensed his body– enduring the back-breaking hit and shrieking. Flopping aside, he rolled twice and puffed a final puff of air. Another victim of level-grinding.

Narrowing his eyes and frowning, Silver plucked the frozen but loosened berry from the ice chunks.

"Here," he said, setting it beside the fallen pokemon. "Eat it when you come around– _weakling_."

"Swii," the creature whimpered gratefully, immediately chomping the berry.

"What... what the HELL?" Silver complained, sweating nervously. "You should be completely knocked out! I don't get it." He paused. "Could it be true... Is Strength a weak attack?" Glaring up at Feraligatr, they both narrowed their eyes and huffed. Both of them had attained the exact same, sour personality.

Silver held out a blank pokeball. "There's no place on my team for weaklings, but still–" Pitching the pokeball, he chucked it at Swinub's head, knocking the brown lump like a billiard ball.

"Swiii~" Swinub cried happily, rolling away until he was siphoned inside. Trembling once, the pokeball snapped shut and Silver immediately snatched and pocketed it.

"We need to investigate this," he declared, withdrawing Fearligatr as well. _I don't understand how such a tiny pokemon could resist Feraligatr's Strength like that, but I have my suspicions... Yes... This must be proof. Finally! This confirms my belief–_

–_That all HM moves are __useless__!_

Nearly laughing in victory, Silver swore that he would delete the move as soon as possible– and that he'd hide his brilliant finding from the world (as to obtain an advantage.) Under this forced reasoning, he determined that Water Gun was better than Surf.

He was decidedly not very good at this.

Bouncing off the walls, a snap and a yell crashed in the distance, startling Silver. _Finally. Sounds like he's still here. I'll get him yet! _Wordlessly, he started off in the noise's direction.

* * *

Bright moonlight crept in through the exit ahead, reflecting off the ice and each surrounding crystalline boulder. Stunned, Silver blinked, staring at the man struggling and grunting on the cracked ice. Through carelessness, it appeared the man had trapped and cemented his feet in broken glaze.

"Found you," Silver said, making himself known. "Do you need help?" As polite as this question was, his menacing undertone suggested otherwise.

"Come on," the man pleaded. "I've had... the worst day ever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! This morning– in the shop– some old lady started yelling at me about muh...mushrooms– And then she dumped a WHOLE tray of them over my head," the man complained, clenching his fists and shivering in his cheaply thin karate gi. "An-and after I finished picking them off the floor, this crazy guy, waltzed in– yelling about mythical dragons and throwing his cape around– and I got Hyper Beamed in the FACE. Then I woke up with this sorta... some kinda carpet burn on my back? And then–"

"–SHUT. UP," Silver exploded, unable to put up with the man's angst-filled day. This sufficiently silenced the whole cave.

Huffing, Silver pocketed his numb hands and skated onto the ice, muttering restrainedly. "I'll tell you something useful," he said finally; "Life sucks. ALL the time."

Calmly traveling from boulder to boulder, he glided nearer. "But luckily for you, I'm going to keep my word... Remember what I said earlier?"

"Er... about what?" The man scratched his head. "The helping part?"

"Way before that," Silver reminded, shaving the ice with his slewing feet. "That part. You know–

–The part about kicking your a**!" Mercilessly, he rammed his foot forward– throwing the man– sliding and screaming, face first into the distant embankment.

"AAAGHH–" Smacking into a boulder, the man hiccuped, fell silent, and groaned.

Sternly, and silently, Silver slid a few steps behind. Though his face was expressionless and cold, he was truthfully filled with unbridled glee. It so happened that kicking people in the butt was one of his favorite pastimes.

"You really are fortunate," Silver mentioned. "Somehow, that amused me. So I'll only crush you half to death." He stomped his boot down, nearly scraping the man's face.

"W-what do you want from me?" the man yelped.

"Your name," Silver spat. "So I can scribble it on your tombstone. In your blood. With a toothpick!"

"EYAH," the man bellowed. "D-don't kill me. I've got eight children. Uh, twelve! Twelve of them. And a wife. Hell, three wives. Make that twenty children–"

"SHUT UP."

"Kenji! Kenji's my name."

"Team Rocket SCUM," Silver accused, kicking the man several times. "Running away... Such cowardice is unforgivable. Abandoning your team is the same as betraying it. You should fall, of course, but all at once. It should be honorably, in battle, or under the command of your leader, not because of your–"

"–Wait, what?" the man interrupted. "I wasn't abandoning Team Rocket! Never. I've been with them before the Champion Red days, even. You see, Operation Radio Tower Seize takes place in three days, so–" he stopped and gulped, instantly realizing that he had said too much.

"Is that so? " Silver asked, leaning over him and glaring murderously. "Go ahead. Finish that sentence. For the sake of your twenty imaginary children."

"Mah-m-my group was-told-to-take the long route around through Dark Cave!" the man squeaked out. "We're to... waste time in Dark Cave... for a few days. Don't look at me like that, it's our orders! Then we pass on through Violet City and head towards Goldenrod, entering from the National Park side..."

"I see." Silver pulled away. "So if I went to Goldenrod right now, I probably wouldn't find anyone..."

_But why were Petrel and that scientist arguing about getting to Goldenrod on time? Are the Executives assembling there beforehand to prepare? But where, exactly? _

_For them to order the grunts to show up later... Team Rocket must have a very small hideout this time._

Trying to think where it could be, Silver remembered that years ago there was a basement at the Goldenrod Game Corner– just like the one in Kanto. But when his father ran away, the law confiscated both businesses and filled both basements in with dirt and cement.

Looking down at his reflection in the ice, Silver saw a tiny mushroom.

_What the..._

"Er. If you don't mind me mentioning," Kenji began, disrupting the silence. "You have the Boss's eyes... I could be wrong, but aren't you his son–"

"–Get out of my sight," Silver snapped, lifting his heel, kicking, and shattering a nearby boulder.

Screaming and yelling, Kenji leapt up and clamored away– bolting out the cave's exit.

"Hmph." Silver threw his hair back. _Some 'Black Belt' that guy is_.

Bending down, he picked up the tiny mushroom. Thoughtfully holding it– he turned its white stem over several times before pocketing it and walking away. Just as he reached the cave's exit– peering out onto the dark route ahead– he held his forehead dizzily.

_I forgot. I haven't slept in two days._

* * *

Scaling the cave wall, Clair carefully stepped along the mountainous crumbling ledge. Beneath her– by the edge of the cave's clear blue lake– camped a gang of about twenty Rocket Grunts.

Dispersed in groups of threes and fours, they lounged about on sleeping bags and chattered. Some played Voltorb Flip, some drank from bagged bottles, and a few were sleeping peacefully with their hats over their faces.

Spreading her arms across the craggy wall behind her, Clair griped tightly and held on– like a ninja.

_Of course Lance needs MY help,_ she thought, holding in a scoff but smiling childishly. _I investigated all of Route 45 earlier and found absolutely nothing. From the look of the soil, no human's been down there in days. _

_It was obvious. The shop clerk that Lance was chasing simply evaded him by going into Dark Cave..._

"Hey Corey," a grunt called out across the floor. "Where's Kenji?"

Stirring from a pile of identical bags and backpacks, a burglar in a blue tracksuit emerged. Adjusting his round, black glasses, he pulled on a white face mask and adjusted his hat brim.

"He got knocked out at The Shop... by some nut with a Dragonite," he explained. "I dragged him somewhere safe, though, since he was too heavy. He should be joining us when he wakes up."

"Oh man," the grunt complained, holding his face. "Tell me you grabbed the floor plans off of him."

"Eh?"

"THE FLOOR PLANS."

"You mean... the ones for the Radio Tower? Or the ones for the Basement Puzzle?"

"Both– both–"

"–I've got neither," the burglar admitted.

Groaning, the grunt collapsed on all fours and banged the cave floor with his fist. "You do realize that we ALL can't rendezvous without those, right?"

"Eh..." Burglar Corey paused, nervously looking down. "...Oops."

All around, concerned members spoke with alarm and glanced up from what they were doing to listen in.

"What do you mean we can't rendezvous now?" a man's angered voice blasted over the panicked chattering.

_So these idiots aren't fully assembled?_ Clair pondered, wondering what these floor plans even were– and where this 'Kenji' person was.

"Calm down, guys, I'm sure he'll be here soon." Stepping backwards, the burglar waved his hands downwards– trying to dismiss their alarm. "Kenji's stuck with TR for a long time now– he won't just disappear on us."

"Being a constant Team Rocket member means nothing compared to being a CONSISTENT Team Rocket Member!" a female grunt stood up and protested.

"You're so damn negative!" somebody else grouched. "Think positive."

"THINK POSITIVE?" The woman wildly flailed her arms. "IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED– WE'RE TEAM ROCKET."

The whole group went insane with bickering. There was much to be debated about the ambiguity of that statement.

_These people are part of a criminal organization?_ Clair thought, frowning at their stupid panic and confusion. _They're just a bunch of morons... They're probably in Team Rocket just because they think the uniform looks cool._

_But of course they have no idea what looking cool is all about._

Nodding her head sagely at the thought, Clair decided that she would listen in more and wait for this Kenji person to show up– then, she would strike.

_~To Be Continued...~_

* * *

The writer's block came and gobbled this story up.

OTL

To try and overcome it, I scaled Mt. Silver and beat Champion Red. He said "...!" which slapped some sense into me and put everything into perspective. This burning... It is shame!

*will try to make the next chapter longer*


	40. Chapter 40: Setting a Trap

Clair tensed her numb arms, frowning from way up high. She had spent the whole night clinging tightly against the inner cave wall and not once did Team Rocket discuss their plans aloud. She was beginning to wonder if they even had any plans at all.

_Well if nothing happens soon,_ she thought, impatiently; _I'll just have to go down there and find out._

Eager as she was at this point, she knew that if she acted too rashly, she could allow valuable members to escape. If that happened, she'd be left with only clueless grunts to interrogate. After all, it was common practice for Team Rocket higher-ups to appoint only a few members with special plans; the rest were to follow blindly or worm information from one another. _And these buffoons don't look like the informed type. _Clair recognized their normal, almost pedestrian gazes as they continued playing cards or snacking on packaged dried goods.

As if answering her impatience, a man in a white karate gi bumbled down the nearby stone stairs, panting and sweating as he pulled a roll of paper from his flimsy robe of a shirt.

"I've got it," he gasped, holding the roll up and collapsing to his knees. "Sorry I'm late."

"Finally! Kenji's here. Took you long enough," a nameless grunt scoffed; a man in a blue track suit and overly large, round dark glasses. "I was about to call a meeting. You have no idea how impatient everybody was gettin'. They were about to chew my legs off!"

"Hey. I got here, didn't I?"

Clair smiled as she watched the two Team Rocket members bicker– not because they were particularly amusing, but because she finally had her targets. These two would do. But how to separate them from the pack while she interrogated them? Furthermore, she wasn't too keen on letting those lesser members escape. She continued to smirk haughtily, though upon closer inspection, one would recognize it was instead vicious playfulness.

"Let's go, Kingdra," she murmured, pulling a pokeball from behind her cape. "Let's draw a trap for these fools. You'll closely watch them and await my command. If anything goes wrong– freeze them over. I leave it up to you." Rolling the ball down her arm like a juggler, she gently dropped it into the dark water below. Bubbling up, a light glowed only slightly in the depths, and with a small slosh, the ball, now empty, rebounded back up through the surface and jumped into her open palm. "Nice one," she complimented, impressed by Kingdra's wind-up hit–– the pokemon's curled tail was especially powerful in the water. Full of anticipation, she watched as her pokemon dove through the water, leaving only a faint ripple on the surface.

_Now to lure my targets to a dark corner,_ she thought, whipping around and climbing away to just the spot.

* * *

Opening his eyes, Silver blinked, scowled, and strained to recognize the strange ceiling overhead. Very slowly did his bleary vision clear, immediately putting him in a sour and disturbed mood._ Where the crap am I?_

"Um," a man muttered, genuinely puzzled. "When did this boy get here? On our floor, I mean."

"Forgotten already?" a second man quipped. "He's been there since late last night! But I suppose your memory would lapse by now..."

"Oh, yes, I remember now." The forgetful man scratched his balding head. "I worked with his Feraligatr to forget that one move... ah. What was it again?"

A wrinkly, impassive face glared down at Silver– a woman's– followed by the prod of an uneven wooden cane. Slowly, she poked at his thighs and then at his face– keeping a calm and stern countenance as she investigated.

"The... the hell?" Silver scowled even more intensely than before– infuriated by the old woman's nerve. Surely, this would be Lyra in 70 years.

"Hm... He's awake," she finally determined aloud, all before poking him once more.

"Well of course I am NOW," Silver yelled, sitting upright; "–being jabbed with a cane and all, you crazy, battered old BAG."

"What a feisty one!" the old woman proclaimed. "He's just as firm as his thighs!"

"Mother," the second man said, holding his face in embarrassment. "You can't poke every young man who comes in here."

"Why not?" she crowed.

"They'll arrest you!"

"What? Whatever for?"

"As move tutors, it's our responsibility to create a non-threatening environment for trainers– young trainers, especially– so that the league doesn't–"

"–poke a man," the woman interrupted. "Ha ha ha..." She laughed at her own lame joke.

"Gah! We're not having this conversation again!" Giving up, the man stalked away, pulling a pan from the nearby stove and throwing it onto the low table in the center of the room. "Breakfast! Everybody, eat. That includes you, Mr. Silver."

Silver glared menacingly at the man, but stood up and followed suit, anyways. Though he was embarrassed that he was still here, mooching off this older family, he was still hungry– hungry enough to trash the place and wildly steal all the food from the cupboards. However, he was feeling much more civil than usual, so he instead sat down at the table and folded his legs, hunching and glowering like the angsty little punk he was.

"Hm," someone mumbled. A much older man suddenly appeared at the far end of table. He had done this by pulling his nose away from a tall book, revealing that he had actually been there the whole time. "Smells good," he muttered, looking to Silver. "Hey, boy," he said; "You look very bored. Almost depressed. Bring out that pokemon from last night."

As much as Silver wanted to argue with him, he was feeling much more civil than usual, and so instead reached into his pocket and extracted Feraligatr's pokeball. With a bored flick of his wrist he released the door-sized monstrosity of bulky, blue scaled muscle. "Sit," he commanded, pointing at the floor beside him.

In response, Feraligatr opened his fat, razor-lined mouth and smiled about as stupidly as he did back when he was a baby Totodile. "What are you loafing around and grinning for, you great BERK?" Silver insulted. "I told you to sit."

Despite Silver's abuse, Feraligatr kept grinning widely and thumped on over, settling alongside. Almost right away he began bouncing up and down on his tree-like hind legs, thumping the floor and rattling the table with a "**WOOBLE-wooble**–"

Stiffening his shoulders, Silver stoically endured his pokemon's foolish behavior, knowing full well that it was his fault. He had never taught Feraligatr how to behave outside of battle, after all. _How does Lyra deal with this nonsense? _the boy wondered.

Immediately, he realized how stupid of a question that was, being that nonsense was Lyra's specialty.

It was then that he acquired a gnawing feeling in the back of his head (which was luckily not Feraligatr chomping down on an unfortunate appetizer). That is, Silver had suddenly perceived the presence of something forgotten. Pondering briefly, he couldn't remember at all and so ignored it.

Side by side, and with identical poise and viciousness, Silver and Feraligatr tore into their breakfast– stuffing down steamed rice and omelette rolls with impressive speed and skill. Trying to compete with his pokemon as usual, Silver reached for a bowl of soup and downed it, suddenly stopping when he felt something large and mushy rest on his tongue. Quietly stopping, he set down the bowl and opened his mouth, fishing out the object. _A whole mushroom?_ he thought, turning it over. _Unacceptable!_ _It should've been properly chopped, how lazy! _In his moment of critique, however, he finally remember what he had forgotten.

"You seemed to be in a real hurry last night," the second son said, dishing out a heaping bowl of rice. "So I found it somewhat strange that you decided to sleep on the floor over there... Not that you weren't welcomed or anything. But it was a bit sudden! You fell on your back and started snoring. Ah." The man looked up in remembrance. "Come to think of it, it was kind of like you passed out–"

Nearly flipping over the table, Silver jumped up, clanking the dishes about. "That's right," he muttered, his eyes sharpening in realization.

_I was supposed to chase after that dumb Team Rocket!_

"How can I ever catch up to him now?" Silver yelled, holding his head in agony. Feraligatr, not too concerned, noisily clawed at a bowl of gooey fermented soybeans.

"Huh? Catch up to him?" the eldest son asked, trying to remember if he was supposed to remember this or not. His elderly mother, sitting beside him, suddenly rose.

"Do you have something," she asked; "which belonged to this person you're after?"

Mumbling incoherently, Silver reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny mushroom– the one which had been left on the ice by that man– the man he had kicked and later intended to follow. _What good would this do?_ he wondered.

Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, the woman stumbled around the table and reached into his other pocket. "They're good for more than battling," she answered, grabbing out a pokeball and releasing its captive right on top of the dining table.

A fuzzy brown lump appeared: Swinub. Raising his nose, excitedly, he began sniffing, delicately at first but then piggishly. Scampering over the omelette platter, he crawled straight into Silver's soup bowl. This was his final scandal.

"I wasn't done with that yet, YOU LITTLE TURD," Silver swore. "That's it." He pointed at Feraligatr. "Show no mercy... EAT HIM."

Obeying their one true master, Swinub and Feraligatr stared each other down. And then, gently, Feraligatr held out out his blue forefinger, allowing Swinub to nibble it. "Om nom nom," Swinub meekly growled, quite confused by this command.

"NO," Silver professed, tearing at his hair, "THE OTHER WAY AROUND."

Desperately, his pokemon reorganized: Swinub crawled back onto the omelette platter, and Feraligatr, with intense seriousness, began artistically sprinkling him with soy sauce. This would be a hairy dish to adjust.

"That's also wrong!" Silver yelled, flipping the table over. Food splayed like fireworks overhead and afterwards, breathing heavily, he held his face in his hands. Bitterly ashamed, he wondered why his pokemon were such failures, and where he went wrong in raising them. Perhaps, some years back, this was how his own father felt about Team Rocket's shortcomings.

"If you're done with your routine," the old woman said, amazingly calm after such an incident, "I'd like to show you a technique." She held out her hand. "Mushroom, please."

Still lamenting his team's idiocy, Silver begrudgingly handed her the mushroom.

"Swinub can do more than Endure strong hits," she explained; "Watch." Holding her cane in place she struggled to fall to her knees, huffing as she held held the mushroom in front of Swinub's busy snout. "Take a good whiff," she said, watching stonily as the pokemon abandoned a rice clump and redirected his flaring nostrils. "You smell that? That's the scent of a man who sells endangered mushrooms. A man who parades around in a knock-off karate gi," she said; "and also a bad haircut."

"Did you..." Silver trailed, horribly impressed; "Could you tell that... by scent alone?"

"No!" She pounded her cane twice. "I met the guy."

_I think she's that old woman,_ Silver thought, vaguely recounting the tale of dumped mushrooms, _who that rocket was whining about..._

"Now call out your Sneasel," the woman instructed, stepping aside so Swinub could bumble out the front door. "He'll help you keep an eye on this little one!"

_~To Be Continued~_

* * *

**Ahh! The chapters are getting shorter! **

**Berk... should 'ass' even be censored anymore? Oh no– it wasn't censored there! Well, while we're at it, it should be said that Lyra's nickname for Silver was originally Jerkass, but it was quickly switched to Jerkface. **

**Interestingly, Jerkass is the only one of the two names that would fit in your rival's re-naming space. Probably...  
**


	41. Chapter 41: Good Dreams

"I think it's fine to move her to the lobby now," the nurse said, holding up the hinged counter. Four round, pink Chansey hobbled by hauling the contorted body of Lyra up over their little nurse caps. "Oh my, she's going into convulsions again." The nurse watched, observing Lyra twist up like a churro and then flatten as the pokemon threw her onto the pink and yellow lobby cushions.

"Chance-chance-chanse–" the pokemon sang in unison, turning their backs and abandoning the girl to her dreams.

_I left home because I just wanted to make a living. _Lyra's limbs relaxed. _After taking on so many battles, though, I realized that I wanted to be a champion. For who? I lose myself so easily, it's hard to know. But maybe, for anyone who needed defending._

Standing on a high cement ledge, Lyra overlooked the skyline of a city. _Maybe this is Goldenrod. _The magnet train tracks ran beneath her on its walled bridge, and behind her, the cold and humid sea breeze billowed and threatened to push her off. _And there's that wailing noise again. A high wailing that drones on, like some sort of alien spacecraft. _In the distance, the sun glinted off a white train's bullet-like nose. Slowly at first, it sped up and came shooting into the station below.

_Where am I standing, anyways?_ Wondering this and knowing that she only had to move to find out, she turned around. Turning her back, an ear-shattering boom sounded out, splintering glass and teetering her off the edge.

_I know where this is. This is–_

Losing her balance, she fell backwards, looking up at the shadow of the jolting, roaring bridge and a million shards of glass raining down. The windows of what looked like a giant glass goblet had exploded, knocking her off. _This isn't right,_ she thought, perturbed; _cool people aren't supposed to look at explosions._ Even her dream logic was the same as her waking logic.

Outside the confines of Lyra's dreams– and back in the pokecenter lobby– the nurse sternly scolded her four Chansey nurses. While carrying a platter full of dishes, they had broke out into a conga-line, foolishly shattering glass all over the floor.

"–else you're going to wake her up," the nurse finalized; "Now get a broom and dustpan and clean this mess right up!"

* * *

"You ready?" Clair asked, her pokemon nodding in confirmation. "Remember. It's those two men–" She pointed. "That Burglar and that Black Belt beside him. You must be quick."

Obeying their trainer, the two Dragonair slithered around the darkened cave corner, side by side, raising their winged heads and focusing their dark beady eyes in determination. Nearing the two targeted Team Rocket grunts, they curled into two coiled piles behind them, lowly rattling their tail orbs together.

"Huh?" The burglar sat straight, disturbed by the noise. "Hey Kenji," he said, bumping the Black Belt on the shoulder; "Do'ya hear that?"

"Hwear wat?" Kenji asked, hungrily stuffing his mouth full of mushrooms.

"That rattling noise. There." They both sat up and listened, silently. "What is that?" the burglar asked.

"I dunno, Corey. Maybe it's an Ekans–" Turning around, they finally discovered the two curled dragon pokemon.

"–W-whoa! Look at those," Corey stammered, taking off his round shades. "Those are rare!"

"Ha ha! And look at how high-leveled they are," Kenji babbled, excitedly clenching his fists. "If we caught those, we'd be promoted to Executive class in no time!"

"Heh. I was thinking the same thing." Corey stood up, reaching into his track suit's pocket. "Let's nab 'em before the others find out."

"Right!" Jumping to their feet, they readied their pokeballs in unison, winding their arms back to pitch them.

"Koffing–"

"Let's go, Machoke–"

Before they could throw out their weak pokemon, though, the two Dragonair uncoiled and whipped away, slithering back around the distant corner.

"Egads!" Kenji decried, "our promotions fled–"

"–After 'em!"

* * *

Running down the hill of Route 45, Silver chased Sneasel, huffing and fighting to keep from breathing in dust clouds. "Swinub went this way?" the boy demanded, fighting to keep up with his two fast ice pokemon.

Glaring into the nearby entrance of Dark Cave, Sneasel flicked his pink feathered ear and turned. "S'nyah," he mewed finally, staring back at Silver with similar arrogance.

"Whatever that means..." Disgruntled, Silver dashed after him, the two of them disappearing into the dank and echoing cave. Up ahead, the sound of Swinub's snorting resonated, pulling the boy and his Sneasel further in, and hastening them with its urgency. Just as soon as a faint splashing dripping noise sounded, however, the constant snorting sound stopped.

"Huh?" Silver emitted, pounding down the stone-carved stairs and stopping before a wide pool of water. Silently, it lapped the shore, telling him of a previous but now dispelled disturbance. "Swinub?" Silver asked, his question vibrating off the dense walls around. _Did he..._ the boy panicked at the thought; _Did he suicide into the water?...!_

Without a second thought, Silver followed his pokemon's fate, diving in after him. "SWINUB," he called in between splashes, filling the cave with his voice; "WHERE ARE YOU, LIL' TURD–" He paddled around, frantically searching the dim waters. After diving four times, he broke the surface the fifth and choked, startled when he finally recognized a brown fuzzy lump clinging to the nearby cave wall.

"Swiiii," Swinub cried pitifully, his tiny hooves hooked into the muddy stone. Swimming up close, Silver grabbed the little pig by its back leg.

"Why didn't you ANSWER me?" he scolded, shaking the pokemon and earning a dozen scared cries in response. "Wasting my time like this... You're lucky that I had such a good breakfast today, otherwise I'd put you through a meat grinder and make DUMPLINGS." Terrorizing his crying pokemon further, he placed it on his shoulder and haphazardly pushed off from the wall, floating backwards.

"That's right. Cry harder! You're going straight into the PC when we get to–"

Cutting his sentence short, a sudden force impacted his skull. Clawing through his hair, a small pair of feet took hold, grasping momentarily before leaping off and away, dunking him and a gurgling Swinub under.

Landing on the bank straight across, Sneasel held his claws up, victoriously, as if he expected to be scored and judged by his sacrificed trainer.

Shocked and soaked, Swinub and Silver resurfaced, gasping for breath. "Did you–" Silver spat through clenched teeth; "–did you just STEP on me?"

Frowning, Sneasel sat down and looked away. "Snea," he huffed, dropping his paws at his sides and lifting his hind leg up. Flicking his pink ear once, he hunched over and began intently licking his belly. "S'nya, s'nya–" He outstretched his two little toes.

"Idiot!" Silver fumed, nearly boiling the water over; "THIS IS NO TIME FOR GROOMING–" _Mocking me like this– You won't be forgiven! _Plowing through the water, he vengefully splashed towards the bank, heedless as his Swinub shrieked and hung on for dear life.

Recognizing the murderous glint in the boy's eyes, Sneasel's fur puffed up in panic. Spinning around, he scurried away– frightened by his trainer's scary face. Though he fled, his legs wobbled in fear and slowed him down. After all, he already knew that no one ever escaped from Silver.

* * *

Side by side, Kenji and Corey stood, struggling the break free from the squeezing hold of Claire's two Dragonair.

"Scream, and they'll pop you," she warned, watching as the Dragonair wrapped them tighter. "Now tell me..." She leaned forward. "What are Team Rocket's plans?"

"Enngh– that's–" Corey managed out; "to take over–"

"–Noooo–" Kenji yelled over him; "–the natural food market!"

"Are you trying to make FUN of me?" Clair blasted, angrily stomping her foot and pointing at them. "If you think I'm going to put up with your nonsense, you're sorely mistaken! Now tell me seriously this time or else! What are–" In the distance, a gigantic splash sounded, followed by the screaming crescendo of every nearby Team Rocket grunt.

"–The heck is that?" Clair spat, turning away. "Was I found out already? Where's Kingdra?" _I told her to ice the area over if anything went wrong..._ Answering her concerns, a piercing whistle streamed through the cave, dissolving into a loud crackle and sending gusts of frigid mist billowing past her face. Weakened by the sudden cold, her Dragonair withered back, loosening their grip on the two men.

* * *

"What's this?" Silver demanded, alarmed by the beam of ice which streamed up from the water, shooting out in random directions and slowly forming a wall of ice up ahead and then on the shore behind him. _Was something in the water all this time?_ he wondered, startled by its appearance;_ Crap! I'm soaked and now it's freakin' cold in here!_

Turning back around, he stood before his frightened pokemon. "Enough," he said, picking Sneasel up by the nape of his neck; "I don't care about punishing you anymore." Pacing forward, he slung Sneasel across his shoulders, kicking and shuffling through spires of white ice as he went. "As I was saying," he yelled; "Looks like we stumbled upon a Team Rocket swarm."

"We're trapped–" someone screamed. Panicked, the grunts stumbled backwards and formed into groups. "It's that boy from Mt. Mortar–" they cried and echoed amongst themselves; "Yeah it's that ruthless, blood thirsty boy–" they spoke; "the boy who stole back all the stolen pokemon–"

"–The boy with the face that makes grown men cry!"

"Piss off!" Silver shook in outrage, insulted by such a dumb and awful title. _Damn it, Lyra really was making fun of me... 'Good-looking'? _He glanced at the bandages falling off his hands. _OF COURSE she was joking when she said that. Why– I bet she'll have a good long laugh when she finally wakes up... until she realizes that something's missing._ Looking up, he smirked. "This is what I've been waiting for. All of you are trapped here, so now I can end it. At last, this will be the merciful crushing that Team Rocket always deserved."

Showing some resistance, the grunts slowly slunk forward– reaching into their pockets and taking out pokeballs.

"You say that, but... There's just one of you," a woman said, adjusting her cap; "Against all of us! Working together, we can beat you!"

All around came a resounding cheer of naive hope. For a moment, Silver almost felt sorry for them. They still clung to the idealistic belief that numbers could outdo power. He couldn't help but laugh at them– lowly at first– but then with a maniacal outburst.

Distracted by his crazed display, they all grew silent, watching as he finally stopped laughing.

"None of you understand," he said, pulling out Feraligatr's pokeball; "My pokemon don't protect me from you. They protect you from me–" Slamming the pokeball down on the ground, it smashed through ice coated rock, unleashing a smiling, razor toothed monster before all.

The battle commenced– ripping through hoards of Zubat, Ekans, and Koffing, Feraligatr frolicked happily, thrashing his tail through ice and destroying everything.

* * *

Ice shards smashed and pealed from behind Clair, chunking and sliding across the floor. Jumping around, she stopped and stared. "Impossible," she said to herself; "Did they manage to break Kingdra's second ice wall?" Taking advantage of Clair's distraction, her two prisoners pushed and wriggled free, sliding loose from the two shivering, weakened Dragonair.

Scurrying away, they began to split apart, but Corey hesitated and pulled back. "No, Dead end!" he spat, grabbing Kenji by the sleeve; "This way–" This brief exchange was just enough to alert Clair of their escape.

"What is this?" she yelled, noticing the two running off. Looking back at her Dragonair, she saw that they had accordingly given up and curled together for warmth. "Slackers!" She threw her arms up. "It's not that cold in here! Get up, we're going after them–" Just in time to ruin her plans, though, stray Team Rocket grunts began pouring past, screaming and crying as Feraligatr and Silver chased after them.

"Crush THEM," Silver yelled, orchestrating the great chaotic breakout. "Crush everything, keep crushing–"

"What the hell is going on?" Clair yelled, nearly getting ran over; "That little punk is ruining my plans!" _And just because he's obsessed with CRUSHING things. _Pushing past the crowd, she recalled her Dragonair, turning around just in time to bump straight into Silver.

_~To be continued...~_


	42. Chapter 42: The Dragon Woman

After discovering Team Rocket in Dark Cave that morning— before Silver could rationalize anything— he had sent Feraligatr smashing after them.

Slamming through icicles, boulders, and anything that got in the way, Feraligatr at last shattered through a thick wall of ice, inadvertently releasing Team Rocket from their imprisonment.

Rushing after them, thoughts at last began zapping through Silver's short-wired brain. _Wait. __What's __up__ with __all__ this__ ice? __Dark __Cave __isn't __an __ice __cave..._

As Team Rocket's frantic yelps and pounding feet echoed in his ears, he finally began realizing what was occurring around him. _Is...__was __someone __else __attacking__ Team__ Rocket?__Did __I__ get __in __the__ middle __of __it?_ He had been so set on crushing Team Rocket, that he never considered that someone else had beat him to it.

Neither did he ever consider that he'd be the one to be crushed— literally.

Breaking through the crowd, he grew aware, a second too late, of a static figure before him— a blur of blue.

_A woman?_

Clair, bringing her pokeball close— turned around— widening her eyes in dismay as she saw the boy close in close. He crashed right into her.

Bouncing straight into Clair's smothering chest, Silver blurted angrily and slipped backwards.

Lashing out and falling forward, she toppled downward, pinning him. "What in the—" before she could complain any further, Silver's face pulled back with disgust.

"Watch where you're going, you—" he yelled, gawking at the tightness of her showy vinyl body suit; "—you... you freaky blue BEACH BALL."

"B-blue BEACH BALL?" she repeated, baffled by this senseless comparison. "You dare make fun of me? And after letting Team Rocket get away?...!" Despite already crushing him with her thighs, she bent in close to scold him. "Stupid little punk! I'll have you know that I was dealing with things far beyond you, and quite well, until you came along and mucked it all up–" This change in position sent him squirming.

"GET OFF," he blasted, red-faced and offended. Shoving her shoulders, he sent her tumbling backwards— rolling her shortly— like a boulder.

Shaking off her dizziness, she jumped to her feet and clenched her fists.

"WHAT THE HELL?" she shouted, incensed by such treatment. "Shoving a lady... have you no SHAME?"

"A lady? So that's what you are," Silver scoffed, sitting upright and scowling. "Thought I was dealing with a beach ball here."

Enraged, Clair drew in breath and nearly breathed fire. "ANSWER MY QUESTION."

"Have I any shame? Well of course," he answered. "Having you on me like that was completely embarrassing... because— you might not understand this concept or not— but I have _codes_." He arrogantly threw back his head and brooded intensely, just to show how honorable he was.

Because even jerkfaces had self-respect.

"Wha... what are you talking about? This... you—" At a loss for words, and finally realizing what he was talking about, Clair puffed out her cheeks and flailed her fists. "That's NO fair," she spat in outrage, "If it's like that— then— I'm the one who should be upset, not you—

—you friggin' princess!"

"PRIN-CESS?" he blasted in drawled out huffs. In his life thus far, he had been called many a stupid thing, but never something so audaciously despicable. Standing up, he marched on over to stare her down— and in traditional thug style— with craned neck, raised chin, scrunched nose, and pissed-off eyes.

If only he had been born tall enough... he surely would've been a fierce slowpoke tail dealer. However, he barely came up to Clair's shoulders in height, so he was far less intimidating than expected.

"What do you want, little punk trainer?" Clair scoffed; "A step ladder?"

He instantly filled with resentment. "Whatever!" he grouched, struck down by his failure. "There's no time for messing with a weakling like you... I've got Team Rocket to crush... Go do what you were doing, caped freak." Abruptly turning to leave, he jolted when Clair's bludgeoning fist whopped him over the head.

"CRAP CAKES," he blurted, rubbing his rattled skull and seething in pain. For her to be able to hurt him like that... she was no ordinary human.

_What __the...__she __reminds __me__ so __much __of __that __lolicon __freak...__Why?_He grew agitated at the sudden thought of Lance. _Is __it __her __incredible __strength? __Or __is __it __her __dumb__ cosplay __outfit?_

"Know this— Team Rocket is mine," Clair declared, holding up her fist— the one she had brained Silver with. "I'LL be the one crush them... and you'll be the one to round them up. Understood?"

"You're completely full of air if you think I'm listening to you!"

"It's no joke, boy. As compensation for your wrongdoings, you're going to do as I say." She crossed her arms. "Because, you might not understand this concept or not, but I was going after Team Rocket as a favor... for my one and only rival. To fail this favor... I'm letting him down as we speak! And when I promised him..." Her eyes filled with tears, but she furiously rubbed them dry.

Feeling a sharp pang of pity for her, Silver tucked his hands in his pockets and looked away. "I see. Is that so?" he muttered, unwilling to express his true intentions. "Well that's your own damn fault, you cosplaying freak."

His snobbish face. His upturned nose. Clair could have smashed it in.

Exasperated, she instead clenched her teeth and growled lowly. Kingdra, who had witnessed the escape of Team Rocket, despite ice beaming them off, hobbled close by. Glaring keenly at Feraligatr— the one who had destroyed her ice wall— a blood vessel twitched on her forehead when he gave her a troll-faced grin.

"Tch... Well I guess I feel somewhat sorry for you," Silver suddenly admitted, impatiently stretching his arms behind his back. "Your rival... you must really, pathetically _love_ him. That's why you're getting so worked up about this. Right? It's something stupid and embarrassing like that." Even if he didn't want to admit it, he could completely relate to Clair's predicament. Because to him, breaking his own rival's trust would be an unbearable offense.

_Love. I feel something like that... when Lyra already thinks I'm such a useless guy... because I am a useless guy..._

"Th-that, that's not true," Clair chocked, colliding with his thoughts, "–Him, my rival... Love? That's completely wrong!" It was impossible to tell if her face had gone red from all her eye rubbing or from sheer anger and embarrassment. Despite her protests, Silver already knew the truth.

"Listen. I'm going after Team Rocket however I want," he said. "I'll definitely take them down, but I won't wait around for you. So." He turned away. "If you want a piece of them, you'd better keep up with me."

Half-expecting to be brained again by her, she instead firmly grasped his shoulder, surprising him greatly.

"Fine. Let's hurry. My name's Clair," she said, lightly shaking him. "I'm a trainer, but don't be mistaken... I'm in a much higher class than you!"

He flicked her hand away. "Tch... whatever," he said. "It's Silver... Don't touch me!"

Though Team Rocket had vacated the area, their pounding footsteps and occasional voices drifted from far off... It was only noticeable if one ignored the shrieking of the cave's Zubat— and the sound of one's own hurried footsteps.

"Your rival," Silver began awkwardly, overbearingly obvious that he regretted speaking to her. "Is he a dragon trainer?"

Clair scowled. "We're both dragon trainers," she answered. "Why? Did you just recognize that I was one?"

"Hmph. I don't know." Silver wasn't sure where he was heading with this conversation, or what he expected to find out. _It's __all __probably __just __a__ coincidence_, he told himself. If Clair and that annoying guy were somehow related...

"My rival and I both come from a distinguished clan," Clair announced. "Of dragon masters."

"So you're both dragon masters?"

Clair unduly focused on her running. "P... pretty much."

"So you too, eh?" Silver mused aloud. "You must ALSO suck when compared to your rival..."

"I DON'T SUCK IN COMPARISON TO MY RIVAL," Clair exploded. "Just YOU."

Silver fumed. "YEAH? Well my rival is BETTER than your rival."

After a moment of silence, Clair finally answered him: "How do you know?..." She seemed genuinely baffled by his certainty.

"I... it's obvious," Silver blurted, caught off-guard. "Because my rival is powerful. Even if she's an idiot, she can win any battle... That's why she's my rival. I wouldn't accept anyone less. My rival has to be strong like that."

Clair smirked reservedly at his little speech. "Saying 'my rival' over and over again, almost as if you've confused it with the words 'my lover'..." She sniffed affectedly at him. "You're probably just as idiotic as her."

"YOU KNOW NOTHING," he erupted, jabbing a finger at her. "And your rival is probably some balding dork named Lance–"

"–Preposterous! You dare speak ill of my cousin?"

Silver's mouth gaped open. "He's your cousin, TOO?"

"What are you getting at, is he your cousin as well?" Clair scoffed impatiently. "Sorry, but I've never seen you around."

"That's not what I meant, you FREAK. I can't believe you two are literally related..." _I__ completely __hate__ that __guy!_

"We're only related in name. But..." Clair stopped. "Related or not, I'll never be truly accepted by that family..."

"What?" Silver stopped as well. Curiously, he readjusted his ears the duller noises of the cave, and to Clair's quieter voice.

"My mother was some low-class woman. Though she married into the dragon clan, she quickly got bored and ran away." Clair gave a low and angry laugh. "But– when she returned, two years later, she was pregnant with me. And... as soon as she spawned me, she ran away again! Having no real father... I've been regarded as filth ever since."

Silver blinked steadily, overwhelmed by this sudden stream of stressful information. _These __kinds__ of __irresponsible __parents, __are __they __this __common?_ He pondered desperately._ Like __my __father... __such __adults__– __how __can __they __just __GO__ and __have __children __ALL __OVER __the __place?_

_How can than handle being with so many different people?...!_

_For example, if I was with one more Lyra, I'd probably die in confusion–_

"You have... a stupider expression on your face suddenly," Clair uttered, glaring at him critically. "Anyhow... How do you know my cousin?"

"Tch! Stupider? No you! ...And your dumb cousin's my #2 enemy, right after Team Rocket. "

"Don't shout at me! I'm sick of your disrespectful attitude. It only proves that you're still just a child."

"Hmph. When weak people have nothing else to fall back on, they go waiving around their OLD age," Silver answered, obnoxiously holding up his hands. "Anyway, your cousin? He's just some man-child lolicon weirdo. We ran into each other when he was harassing my rival."

"Say WHAT?"

"You heard me. He likes likes little girls!"

"Such talk for a little boy!" Clair growled, digging her fingers into his collar. "Are you looking for a fight with me?"

Wriggling loose, Silver fell back and immediately straightened his composure. "I was looking for your cooperation," he answered. "Because what you're doing for him now is pointless... shouldn't you be keeping an eye on him instead?"

Clair huffed, overfraught with rage and on the brink of erupting. "You're wrong. There's nothing wrong with Lance. Maybe you ran into someone else."

"Whatever. I'm just letting you know. So you have an advantage over him now." Turning away, Silver continued walking on. "But Lance... he cosplays like you. In a weird blue military outfit and cape. That's him, correct?" He looked up sharply when he heard something nearby– the sound of several shuffling feet.

"That... that's right." Clair looked down, her arms tightening. Quivering, she felt as if she was somehow holding back a geyser inside her chest. In any other situation, she would be busy arguing over the fact that her outfit was high fashion and not cosplay. But somehow– more than anything– she wanted to scream and stomp on this obnoxious little boy.

"Of course I'm right," Silver answered. "Man. If you two are that similar... you might be some kinda cosplaying shota-con freak..."

Clair's eyelids lifted and widened, shrinking her pupils' appearance to half their size. Suddenly, her nose turned a bright red, and her crazed eyes watered over and glistened. _Saying all these upsetting things about Lance... insulting and confusing me..._ She couldn't and wouldn't stand for it.

"As I thought," Silver said, suddenly peeking past the nearby wall. "We've caught up to Team Rocket. Looks like they're lost. Now all we have to do is attack them–"

"–After training endlessly... this is what I get," Clair gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. "Constant disrespect. Disrespect from all angles– even from the low angle of such a short little punk trainer!" She scraped a foot across the rigid slate cave floor. "But no more..."

"What are you going on about now?" Silver complained, turning back around to regard her. "I'm not short, you're just a giant woman." Looking her way, he froze when he saw the orange glow from Dragonair, and the intense whirlwind whipping up all around Clair.

"...Huh?" he uttered, shielding his face from the suddenly turbulent and musty cave air.

In Clair's cupped hands, held straight in front of her, was a small glowing orb of spiraling energy. "Darkness beyond twilight," she said; "crimson beyond blood the flows–"

"What the..." Silver watched, sweating confusedly. "What the crap are you up to?" Listening to her continuously chant– as if performing a magic spell– he became more and more nervous.

_What is this nonsense?...!_

"DRAGON–" Clair called out, her enraged voice echoing throughout, "–SLAVE." Slinging the whirring energy ball up over her shoulder, it beamed outwards and spread before detonating– consuming the whole cave in a dome of light and dust.

_~To be continued...~_

* * *

Morty's words echoed: _Shrimp... __there's __a__ time __and __place __for __your __shortness!_ _But __not__ now._

"Screw you idiot gym leader, get out of my head!"

**Sorry for the super long hiatus, it's been really hard to write for some reason... Next time, I plan to get back to Lyra. Yes, finally!**

**Untill then...**

**Silver and Lyra will dance for you. :O~**

www. youtube. com/watch?v=-Uw69DAFQsU

***remove spaces***

**(Plbb, sorry. Lyra's MMD model was missing eyes.)**


	43. Chapter 43: Lyra's Awakening

_One two, one two_–

a stinging sensation exploded across Lyra's cheeks and snapped her awake. Adjusting her fogged-up eyes, she focused and saw a pink Chansey reaching out and backhanding her in the face repetitively.

"Chance-ee chance-ee," the Chansey repeated. "Chance-see-"

**SMACK SMACK–**

"OW," Lyra emitted–

**SMACK SMACK–**

the sound of Lyra's abused flesh resounded in her ears, and finally she sat up. "RAAAGH," she roared, grabbing the Chansey's dreadlocks and tugging mercilessly.

"YEEEEE," the pokemon wailed– its beady little eyes full of tears.

Lyra roared fearsomely. "RAAAAGH–"

"–YEEEEEE–"

Something clinked nearby, and Lyra looked up to find the pokecenter nurse fast approaching. Letting go of Chansey's hair, she heartlessly ignored the retreating pokemon's pathetic sobbing.

"Ah, you really did wake up!" the nurse announced. "Hm, yes yes... I told Chansey to 'Wake-up slap' you, but I didn't think she'd actually be able to do it."

"Slapping your patients," Lyra wondered aloud; "What kind of nurse are you?...!"

The nurse proudly flexed her shoulders– fluffing the size of her pink puffed-sleeves. "A very well-rounded one!" she proclaimed, summoning her Chansey groupies to her side.

"CHANCE."

They unanimously agreed.

"You sure have a healthy ego," Lyra said, standing up and hunching over in pain. "But how about me, nurse? My head's splitting, my cheeks are raw, and my bladder's gonna explode..."

"Well yes," the nurse answered, "that's to be expected. You _have_ been asleep for 2 days." _And Chansey slapped you silly, ha ha!_

Lyra pulled back her face until her eyes were two soulless little holes. "Tw–two whole days?" she stammered.

"Actually, more like two and a half."

Lyra stood dumbfounded– for a bloated minute– in mind-numbing silence. "Ff... Flippin' Chikoritas," she finally said. "Wha... ... Hot damn! Where's the bathroom?"

The nurse pointed beyond the opened counter.

Washing her hands in the trough-like bathroom sink, Lyra looked up and peered into the large wall mirror. Turning off the tap, she frowned at her undone hair and absent hat. Even though her hair was down, though, it was technically up, since it was sticking off the sides of her head like a ridiculous pair of wings.

"Man... I was sleeping in the lobby like this?" she remarked, combing her wet fingers through her hair. Though it stayed down for a moment, it sprang back up with increased resiliency. She drooped her shoulders in defeat. "I look like a crazed Wooper..." she moped, shaking her head. Wiping her hands on her overalls, she quickly dug into her pockets and retrieved a spare set of rubber bands. "That's right... I passed out at Team Rocket's HQ, didn't I? So... How did I get here?" she pondered to herself, re-tying her pigtails. "...I hope the nurse has my hat."

_Hm? Strange. It feels like something else is missing._

Looking into the mirror again, she only became aware of what it was after much scowling and deliberation. "Huh?" Staring at her shoulders, her eyes narrowed into thick, furrowed lines of puzzlement. "This..."

Finally understanding that her cape was gone– and what it all meant– she eventually yelled out with great dismay:

"I'VE BEEN DE-POWERED."

Bursting out of the restroom, she accosted the nurse.

"WHERE'S MY SUPER CAPE?" Lyra demanded.

Quite relaxed– despite Lyra's rambunctiousness– the nurse gracefully held a tea cup which had been served by a Chansey only moments before. "You're what-now?" The nurse asked, taking a sip.

"Who did this to me?" Lyra tore; "Who..." She paused, clenching her fists with heartfelt injustice. "Who DE-FLOWERED me?"

Choking and gagging, the nurse spat tea all over Lyra.

"AGHH!" Lyra fell to her knees and rubbed her face._ Is this... is what a tea bath feels like?_

"Chaseys, assemble!" The nurse exclaimed, throwing off her white apron and landing it on Lyra's head. "It's time to use... THE KIT."

The Chansey's murmured amongst each other before the tea-serving one spoke. "Chance-see?" she asked fretfully.

"Yes," the nurse went on; "THE KIT. Not the pokemon one, though. That'd be... awkward... Oh!" The nurse pumped her fist. "And call the police!"

"WAIT wait, stop," Lyra spoke up, rising to her feet and holding the apron to her dripping face. "Why're you calling the police? I only want my cape and hat– no need to get the fuzz involved!"

"But you just said," the nursed paused, full of uncertainty; "that you were..."

"De-powered?" Lyra finished her sentence.

"No, you certainly said 'de-flowered'."

Lyra squinted her eyes, still not understanding. "Yeah. I guess I did," she admitted. "What's the difference, anyways?"

"WHAT? Are you one of those teens who regularly use words that you don't even understand?"

"I'm not stupid!" Lyra proclaimed indignantly. "I KNOW what it means... De-flowered is what happens when you pick all the cool stuff off a plant– which is exactly what happened to me!" She raised her fingers to count on them. "My magic hat and super cape were nicked from my cold, unknowing body.." She counted something else on her fingers. "Ah! And also my black specs. They're very important. They increase all my stats by 30%, and I worked very hard for them."

The nurse quickly brought her palm to her face. "I... see..." She waived her arm backwards to call off her awaiting Chansey crew. "If you're looking for your hat and shades, they're in a box under the counter. As for your cape... I have no idea. I don't remember you wearing any such thing."

"N... no." Lyra panicked, her face turning a pale blue. "So it's gone? ... It can't be gone... Is this karma? ..." Increasingly desperate, she chattered her teeth and and vaulted over the lobby counter– quickly diving under it and disappearing.

"No running or lunging!" the nursed scolded, waiving her arms around. "And don't go thinking you can ride your bicycle in here, EITHER."

Not responding, Lyra took several moments before jumping back up– but this time with her hat back on and her black specs in hand. There was no sign of her cape, though, and her expression confirmed it. "It really is gone," she said sadly. "Now I can't... I can't..."

"Huh? ... You can't, what?" the nurse inquired sympathetically.

Lyra's eyes watered over. "Now I can't 'transform'–" she threw back her head and sobbed foolishly: "–into Super Jump Girl... hn... nhhh–

–BAWWWWWWW–"

Falling on her hands and knees, she convulsed like a Smeargle being curb-stomped by its own brethren. Then she started choking and gasping, because no one should be allowed to wail that much.

_Did she say... transform?_ The nurse sweated nervously, weirded out by Lyra's freaky tantrum. "Hm?" Noticing a small piece of paper taped to Lyra's back, she edged over to get a closer look. "A note," the nurse muttered, poking at it. "Ah. That's right. That boy who brung you here asked for a notepad before he left... Come to think of it, he never gave it back..." _–Wait._

_That jerk!_ The nurse realized; _Did he STEAL it?...!_

"B... boy?" Lyra looked up with hopeful, shining eyes– snot dripping all over her face. _He might have my cape!_

"Urgh! Kids these days," The nurse complained, taking her anger out on Lyra, "dry that mess up right now!"

Grabbing the nurse's apron off the floor, Lyra thoroughly cleansed her nose and face with it. However, this did little to assuage the nurse's disgust.

"BLEGH... Urk. Why did I... ... Yes," the nurse finally said, appropriately nauseated. "An evil-looking, long-haired pretty boy carried you here. He said he was your rival."

"My rival? Silver!" Lyra clasped her hands together. "Did he leave?"

"Yes, he HAD to." The nurse scornfully shook her head. "You kept on trying to eat his hair in your sleep! I mean, what the heck? He would've went BALD if he had stayed."

"Oh," Lyra emitted. "So that's why I dreamt of yummy pasta with lotsa red sauce."  
_But actually..._ She sat up and held her chin in thought; _I think he didn't hang around here because he's still a wanted criminal from all his thefts... I understand that... and I'm glad he took care of me, but..._

_I still feel so disappointed– by the fact I missed another chance to see him._

Even more puzzled, she looked down at the ground in frustration. _This... _

_When did I start feeling this way, anyways? _

_I can still remember... there was once a time when I was so pissed off by him, that I wanted to kick him into next Tuesday! His face used to freak me out, too, but at some point it made my heart beat faster and then..._

"–What ya staring off into space for?" the nurse interrupted. "Come on, what does the note say?"

Lyra snapped back to attention. "Oh. A note?" she muttered, reaching a hand behind her back and tentatively feeling about. Touching and crinkling some paper, she pulled it to her face.

Carefully, she read the note aloud. It was written entirely in beautifully ornate handwriting. This itself was a bad sign.

_"TO THE WEAKLING ATTACHED TO THIS SMALL PIECE OF PAPER:_

_If you like playing "pretend" so much,__ just pretend that this is your cape. _

_I assure you that it's only a fraction as stupid looking.  
_

_You'll thank me when you grow a brain. (If THAT ever happens.)  
_

LOVE,  
_SILVER_

_P.S. You suck!"_

Wrinkling the note, Lyra stared at Silver's gloriously beauteous handwriting with a serious glare. "I'll kill you," she said, apparently threatening it.

"H-hold on," the nursed rushed; "he wrote 'love', right? Doesn't that mean something?"

"Something? HA. It means that he STOLE my cape... to mock my dignity and to challenge my honor!" Growling and making strange mewling noises under her breath, Lyra stomped forward– only to be pulled back by the nurse and several panicking Chansey.

"He's just teasing you... It's just a joke!"

"Don't you get it? I'M the joke here– That guy! I..." Stopping in sudden revelation, Lyra pointed a vindictive finger towards the ceiling. "I _SHALL_ kick him into next Tuesday–"

"–H-hold on. Kicking people isn't the answer! _Neither is murder._ And you haven't even had breakfast yet. You want breakfast, right?"

Lyra's attitude instantly changed. "Breakfast?" she asked simply.

"That's right! Breakfast." The nurse paused. "It can even be pasta if you want!"

"Ha? With lotsa red sauce?"

"Yes, yes, that's right! With 'lotsa red sauce'."

"Yay!"

_Oh man_, the nurse thought, turning around to hide her petrified face; _Somehow I distracted her, but I actually don't know how to make Italian food..._

Balling up the note, Lyra chucked it into the corner wastebasket and ran after the nurse who had stealthily disappeared into the back. "Can there be meatballs?" Lyra's fading voice inquired. "And can you save me some to put on a sandwich to go?"

"Don't request impossible things!"

"Then I want takoyaki."

"Don't request things!"

"Eh? Now you're just being impossible...!"

Peace returned to the pokecenter lobby at long last, and each dutiful Chansey went back to work. The one Chansey who was responsible for waking up Lyra before, however, clumsily loitered about– since it was in her nature– and eventually peeked into the corner wastebasket to see if Lyra's discarded note had pushed it into the ready-to-dump zone.

Pleasantly surprised, Chansey found a whole mound of crumpled, scribbled-out paper– all of which happened to be part of Silver's clumsy attempts at writing a love note.

It was certainly ripe for dumping!

Blissfully unaware and greatly filled with mature feelings of dependability, Chansey danced off into the back to go fetch a fresh plastic bag. This was a very big deal for her because she stank at all other forms of household chores.

So, by the time Lyra had gorged herself with mushy, deformed spaghetti– and said her goodbyes to everyone in the pokecenter– the wastebasket was emptied and fitted with a new, sparkly plastic bag.

And for the notes... never again...

* * *

Standing on the outskirts of town, Lyra gazed up at the blackened, dust-filled sky.

"What's up with all this crud in the sky? Did a volcano erupt?" she asked perplexedly, turning to Aerodactyl for support. As concerned as he was about the sky, though– which he always was, being its king and ruler and all– he instead looked off into the distance and barked.

A loud, crisp bark.

Lyra stared at him. Then into the distance– then back at him.

"Uh... Okay," she continued. "Barking is good for an Aerodactyl. I guess! Whatever makes you happy, buddy."

Edging between the coniferous trees towards Route 44's entrance– to get a better look at the crud's direction– Lyra was surprised when a man ran out from the thicket and yelled at her.

"HIYA SONNY BOY," he said– making Lyra feel very uncomfortable. "I see you're NEW in Mahogany Town."

"Actually," she said, "I've somehow been here for almost three da–"

"–Since you're new," he interrupted, "you should TRY a yummy RAGECANDYBAR!"

He screamed everything with the intensity of a table saw. "Right now, it can be yours for just 300 pokedollars! Want ONE?"

"N...no." Lyra held her aching ears. "What I really want is to get on through here, so could you just–"

"HIYA KID," he repeated himself. "I see you're NEW in Mahogany Town–"

"–OK, I'll BUY one." Lyra conceded. "If I do, you'll let me pass, right?"

The man looked at Aerodactyl behind her before answering. "... ...Maybe."

"Maybe?" She questioned in disbelief, handing him her Trainer ID. Swiping it through his pokegear, he handed it back– along with a good-sized green box

"Here you go! Your ragecandybar."

"Wait. Is this a giant chocolate bar?" Lyra asked, taking the box in hand and lifting its lid. "Heh?"

Inside the box, in the absence of any chocolate, was instead a bunch of pounded, round-molded sticky rice cakes.

"This AIN'T NO candy bar, pal." She glared up at him. "NO candybar."

Ignoring her, the man pushed his palm for the sky, startling her and compelling her to listen. "I remember a person from as far as Kanto came to buy one a long time ago," he narrated theatrically; "I happened to have none in stock then. That person left rather upset." He paused. "I felt kind of sorry for that."

Lyra dropped the box and frustratedly dug her fingers into her hat. "What's that story have to do with ANYTHING?"

He never answered her. In fact, he seemed content to act like their conversation had never even started. Holding onto his large backpack, he stared off straight ahead– almost as if she wasn't there.

Huffing irritatedly, Lyra graciously dropped the issue and so put the "ragecandybar" away in her bag.

She took one step past him, and he stopped her again.

"HIYA."

"Come ON, old man. I just want to see what's going on over there," Lyra pleaded; "I just wanna see where all that murky crud is blowing in from–"

"–Oh, that?" The man asked; "Why didn't you just ask me to begin with? You sure waste a lot of time. If you want to know anything, just ask me. I give out free advice with the purchase of EACH ragecandybar."

Grinding her teeth, Lyra graciously put up with his nonsense. "Yeah yeah. So tell me, then! What happened to the sky?"

"Dark Cave blew up. From the inside."

"WHAT?"

"At least, that's what I heard. I think someone was trying to level it, though, since it's blocking the way. But it's still standing!"

"Well that person sure was a dud!"

Lyra and him shared a good laugh, but then she stopped.

"I'm not interested in passing anymore," she said, turning and walking away. "Ciaossu."

"W-what? But-but–"

Abandoning the salesman and hurrying back through town, Lyra stopped right before the gym and gazed up at it.

_That gym bouncer is gone_, she observed._ I guess Pryce is feeling better now._.. _since he WAS very concerned about Team Rocket, and I stopped their radio transmitter..._

Glimpsing back at Aerodactyl– and reminded of her battle at the hideout– she dropped her arms and clenched her fists. Instantly filled with heart-pounding anxiety, her willpower was steeled by the realization that Team Rocket was far from done with their creepy signal experiments.

Now was not the time for gym battles.

"Goldenrod," she said aloud, thinking of nothing but the city's tall radio tower.

Climbing up onto Aerodactyl's back, she clung to his neck and blasted upwards– flying up high into the dusty sky.

~To be continued...~

* * *

**Flippin' Chikoritas... What the Muk! **

**_Son of Bulbasaur!_  
**

**This chapter goes to the 300th reviewer, DreamingAngell!**

**Yeah... I know. It's not much... :I**

**So here's a picture of Lyra & Ethan braiding Silver's hair:**

**i39. tinypic. com/2lsi1dw. png**

***remove the spaces***

**Stay tuned! Thanks for all your support. ;_; Final exams are almost over, so there will soon be more time to write. :3  
**


	44. Chapter 44: Faces of Evil

Tilting her head all the way back till it popped, Lyra eyed the gleaming sides of Goldenrod's magnificent Radio Tower. On its windows—the early morning sunlight radiated off in watery blotches of color that dimmed only when a Spearow soared close enough to the sun—or when a cloud puff hovered by.

Further up, windows darker in tint sat– shadowed by the goblet-like design of the transmitter turret above.

_It's ominous, _Lyra thought;_ As ominous as this cold feeling in the sea breeze. _

_So... interesting. I can't see in. And the Radio Tower guard wouldn't let me go to the highest floor. _

_It's ominous, and so suspicious._

In truth, Lyra had already been in and out of the Radio Tower several times since arriving– as well as all around town– but to no conclusion. No suspicious activity. No sign of Team Rocket. Despite her instincts, nothing was happening in Goldenrod.

But in the overactive and slightly delusional confines of her mind, the words of Team Rocket's interim boss– Executive Ariana– echoed endlessly:

_"The broadcast experiment was a total success... We have much bigger plans..._

_You'll come to appreciate Team Rocket's true power soon enough..."_

Frustrated, Lyra rattled the paper in her hand—a flyer that she had picked up from the Radio Tower's receptionist desk only moments before.

"Crystal's next radio show... It's tomorrow," Lyra realized, perking the interest of Anonymous– who slithered attentively atop her feet.

Actually, he was on her legs. And slithering up them in a manner that would send any other person in abject terror. But Lyra just dully nodded her head, shuffling the flyer downwards to him.

"That's my childhood friend," Lyra said, pointing at a girl shown below the ad's 'POKEMON CHANNEL' logo. "She's the one," Lyra insisted importantly, "who ensured you were French!"

Anonymous stopped slithering just long enough to behold Crystal's magnificence– and his slimy skin squished and crinkled as profoundly as the amazement in his dark, wordless eyes. But then he went back to slithering around.

"Crystal... Aah. I wonder if she got any stronger?" Lyra wondered aloud, anxiously tugging the flyer in both hands. "The last time we fought, I couldn't handle her at all... I wonder who would win in a fight? Her or Lance? I wonder... I wonder. Ah! I should stage something!"

In the midst of her dream battle imaginings, though, it finally occurred to her... That she had majorly pissed off Crystal by doing something similar to her last time; with Eusine.

Crystal would likely never forgive her.

Lyra dropped the flyer and tightly clasped her face. "That's right." She moped. "I made Eusine fight Crystal for Suicune. So Ethan could save her... Sending strange men after her in such a way... It's a crime... it's totally unforgivable..." Her eyes then shined with a callous, business-like glint. "Could I possibly pawn the Demon King off on her?"

She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth.

It felt entirely wrong to consider such a thing– poignantly because it was like admitting to her crimes; even more poignantly because no one ever deserved the scrutiny of the Demon King.

All these thoughts of strange men finally got her brain circling back to Eusine's cape. Her cape.

"Wah! That's right," she yelped suddenly; "My power cape... It was stolen!"

_BY JERKFACE._

Biting her lip, she growled furiously at this injustice– even though she was the one who had originally thieved it.

"What the heck?" Lyra ranted on; "Is he punishing me? And to write a note just to tell me that my cape's 'stupid-looking', and after I told him that his face is 'good-looking'... a fact which he COMPLETELY ignored. I take it all back, what a jerkface! A FART face." Lyra angrily hobbled off, Anonymous still tightly wrapped around her legs. "And now I've lost it—" she went on, knowing she could kill (Silver). _Call me weak, 'cause we're all just tiny, weak and lonely creatures, _she thought decisively, trying to send him her message (somehow)._ And go ahead and get over-emotional—I can put up with your whims. Yeah, you can shove me, I think it's kinda funny, actually. I let you steal some things from time to time, so that's okay— _

"—But never," Lyra said aloud; "NEVER steal my merchandise. Don't touch the fashion goods!" By now, she had inadvertently made her rant last all the way past Route 35 and up into the National Park's gatehouse. It was not until she exited the gatehouse and entered that park that she came to an abrupt, but much needed stop.

Out from the wild, bright and dewy morning sky, an unknown object fell down and descended upon the girl—braining her with the force of a large wooden salad bowl.

For a touched person like Lyra, this was understandably the last thing she needed. "Wua..." She took in breath to wail: "OOH-WAAH AH AH AH–" She held her head as if she had been fatally shot and wounded. This went on for some time, and she didn't end her strange animal-like howling until she heard a unfamiliar noise at her feet.

"Kern?" a little voice chirped.

"Huh?" Pulling her arms away from her face, Lyra looked down and found a GIANT sprouted seed with black, hungering eyes. A Sunkern. "What the—" Lyra spat, unable to speak her thoughts and feelings on the subject. "—What a little kneebiter!"

And it did just that. Shaking its green sprouted leaves, the pokemon launched itself at Lyra—growling with an intensity not unlike the girl's—and with a hunger for blood that was twice as vicious. Landing, it latched its toothless mouth to her knee, where it stuck on like a tumorous weed sticker.

Anonymous had none of this. Unwrapping his tentacles from Lyra's legs, he stood solidly on the ground and slapped the pokemon away.

"Suuuuun—" the Sunkern wailed, landing in the distant park fountain. A pathetic splash sounded.

"I was right," Lyra observed. "It WAS a kneebiter." Pain returned to her head once again and she quickly cradled it. "Sucks... That was the thing that fell from the sky, wasn't it?"

"Ghree," Anonymous sputtered importantly. He raised a tentacle and pointed at the fountain.

"You want to go finish it off?"

He nodded.

"Right. The battle's not over," she said, pulling out a pokeball. "However, this is the perfect opportunity to work on Elm's pokedex." She chortled nervously. "Because frankly... we've been doing a pretty crap job on it!" _It's hard because we beat everything without even trying! _she added in thought.

Charging through the grass and towards the fountain—Octillery dove in—splashing the water way up high and effectively blasting Sunkern out of the fountain. Flying up through the air, Sunkern landed in the grass—where it shook the glistening water from its brown body and popped up its lush green leaves.

"This Sunkern!" Lyra proclaimed with a prophetic shiver. "When I look at this Sunkern... it's like a thousand volts of solar power are coursing through my entire body... I can instantly feel its courageous purpose, and its SUPREME will to fight!"

The pokemon gave a proud and pouty face full of determination. This was no seed. This was a seed with a face!

Lyra clawed at the air, as if beckoning mystic forces. "Join me, Kneebiter. And I will make your face the GREATEST in Koridai."

Sunkern pouted fully and blinked, once. "Kern?" it chirped, unsure of why Lyra was barring her teeth or rolling her eyes back into her head.

Shuffling up on Sunkern from behind, Anonymous whipped his tentacles through the grass and herded the pokemon closer. But Sunkern was not repulsed.

"I'll take it from here," Lyra said. Sliding forward and winding back her arm, she pitched the pokeball, smacking it straight into Sunkern's face and pulling her inside. Watching the pokeball twitch several times, Lyra tensed up with great apprehension, but cried out in relief when it finally sealed. Never before had she managed to catch such an impressive pokemon with one single throw! As soon as Sunkern was sent to the PC, however, this sense of relief was ruined.

Ruined by an incoming phone call.

"I've got it," Lyra assured, unclipping her pokegear and pulling it to ear. But as soon as she opened her mouth to speak into the transceiver, she was cut off by a semi-manic and geezerly voice.

"–Crystal!" Professor Oak greeted, forcing Lyra into further silence. "you have been catching a lot of pokemon..." He spoke with a mix of both satisfaction and stupefaction.

Reminded that the pokedex was registered under Crystal's name, not hers, Lyra couldn't answer. Surely Oak knew that Crystal was a very busy girl genius, so it was probably double-shocking for him to see her pokedex mysteriously being filled up. Suddenly, Lyra began to wonder what would happen if Oak ever confronted Crystal in person about it. Without any more said, the line clicked—and Oak ended the call as abruptly as he started it. A chilling breeze wafted by right then.

Lyra clipped her pokegear back to her bag—its white pom-pom phone charm swinging—and she silently crossed her arms. _I'm... just ghostwriting the pokedex, _she thought._ Even if I originally did this for Elm, I'm doing it for Crystal. I wanted to make her proud._

_But would she really be proud of something done by me?_

"Maybe it's pointless," Lyra muttered, earning a surprised look from Anonymous. "Crystal... has worked very hard... and she accepts me this much, so I can't ask for much more. But... I will understand if she always hates me."

_Because I was born foolish, _Lyra thought sullenly. _So I didn't even realize—that when Crystal's parents kept her from playing with Ethan and I—that they weren't just keeping her busy with tutoring and lessons. _

_It was because they didn't want her to be around me. _

Lyra remembered it well; on the day of her father's memorial, in the marble foyer of Crystal's mansion, several women—friends of Crystal's mother—chatted quietly in the area between the back bookshelves and the grand piano. Lyra avoided their faces as she listened to them, looking only at their red, orange, and golden-shoed feet.

_"I heard that in his home country, __his family's crimes were excused by the fact that him and his siblings were 'rock stars'... isn't that absurd?"_

_"Hahaha!" _They all had laughed at this._ "__So it must be overrun with crooks like him, then. __How uncivilized. Stupid."_

_"He really took his company down with him, and left his wife with tons of debt. How did he ever get let into this country, let alone the training for such a project? Did he fake his way through it?"_

_"Pathetic."_

_"But what charity from the Mr. and Mrs. Maple... Really too much for a foreigner. I'm surprised they lent out their home for this bizarre procession—and for such a man... even if he was a close neighbor." _

_"That generosity of theirs really rubbed off on Crystal! I was told their little girl had been associating with that man's daughter."_

_"My! He had a daughter... Is she here now?"_

_"I wouldn't know. She's a forgettable thing. A below-average girl. Same age as Crystal, and I hear she can't even match her socks."_

_"Ahahaha! How could they even relate to each other?"_

_"But you know? Crystal was told to stop visiting with that girl. But that girl hangs around Ethan–"_

_"—such a sweet boy!"_

_"—Yes, but he's also bad association for Crystal now... all because he never leaves the side of that man's daughter. Lyra, was it?"_

Lyra finally looked up at the women—all of them—in their black sheath dresses and curly tea brown hair, their ravenous smiles stretching across their proud faces.

_"All because of Lyra, Crystal has no friends. Not even Ethan. Isn't that sad? Maybe they should send her to a school." _

Lyra, who had so much to speak for, was unable to say anything to the women. She couldn't tell them that they were wrong—she could only step backwards and away. And before she was aware of anything, she had ran from the mansion and crawled into the evergreen trees past her house—through the little cave in their bushy undergrowth and back into her secret base. Her long black dress, a hand-me-down from her mother, snagged on the branches as she messily burrowed deeper, and the strong scent of dirt and sap covered her thoroughly.

_Crystal—who was always alone—who I always used to wait outside for... Whose parent's used to tell me she was too busy to play with..._

_She wasn't "too busy to play" with, I was just too much of a low life. Ashamedly, I finally realized how foolish I had been. And how much better it would be if I just stopped appearing before Crystal and Ethan._

_So in my eleventh Summer, I stopped talking to them. _

"Aside from formal hellos, this month was the first time I really spoke with them both," Lyra said aloud, looking down at the pom-pom charm again. "The first time in three years."

_It's all because of pokemon..._

Lost in thought once again, Lyra stared at the ground; albeit rather mawkishly, and for a bit too long.

What happened next was entirely her fault.

"Big Sis—" a light, scratchy voice called out.

Despite her experience earlier, Lyra did not look up, nor did she properly brace herself for the sharp collision. "Hooff–" she gasped, the wind knocking out of her lungs. Falling backwards in the itchy grass, the strong scent of dirt covered her thoroughly, and her hair filled with the springy sensation of crawling things. This was only half the the sensation, though, for her chest was compressed by a warm and slightly heavy human body. "B...b..." Lyra managed to look up, despite the blinding sunlight of the late morning. Squinting her eyes, she managed to recognize the purple mop of hair which rested squarely on her collarbone. "Bugsy?"

Lifting his head, he stared at her with his huge, almost bugged-out eyes. "No, call me Buu," he protested childishly; "Remember?"

"Oh... that's right," Lyra replied dazedly, remembering the time they'd met at his Gym in Azalea Town. "Buu... How've you been?"

"Better! I've been training Scyther AND my man-voice," he said, clearing his throat to retain its scratchiness. "Next time we battle... you won't be so lucky."

"Bwahahaha, it's good!" Lyra laughed amusedly. "Now I'll never mistake you for a girl again!"

"PFTT." Angrily puffing out his cheeks, Bugsy attacked—latching his mouth to her neck, he clamped down. And bit.

"WHA—" Lyra yelped; "OW."

Pulling away, Bugsy stumbled to his feet and flexed. "Haha! I gave you a Bugsy bite," he exclaimed. "Get it?"

Sitting up, Lyra rubbed her neck sorely and glared at him. "Buu! NOT cool," she scolded seriously. "That's NOT something you DO to someone without asking! It's rude. Bad! You understand?"

Looking down at his feet, Bugsy nodded, his shoulders slumped sadly and his arms at his side. For a moment, Lyra felt horribly wrong for scolding him.

But then he opened his mouth again. "Then... I'll ask you _first_ next time. Ok?" He smiled.

Now Lyra was the one with the slumped shoulders. "Boy! You will understand when you are older," she explained wearily; "and then this will all become yet another embarrassing childhood memory." _I would know, _she thought._ I have many myself._

"Big Sis! You worry too much," Bugsy responded cheerfully. "If you don't brighten up your mood, mushrooms will start growing out of your head!"

"Hey now. Don't start calling me a mushroom, too."

"Come on, we have a Bug-Catching Contest today!" Bugsy said, grabbing Lyra's hand and pulling her along. "You should try it. I'm sure you can win!"

"Bug-Catching Contest? But. Aren't you the one who's gonna win it? You're the bug researcher, after all."

"I have won the Contest many many times, so I won't participate," he explained, proudly lifting his nose in the air. "And as you can already tell, I'm a master at it, so it's just boring if I keep winning. I don't want to ruin the fun, you know!"

"What a guy!" Lyra clapped. _He's so childish and innocent because of his age... but he's incredibly astute, _she thought_; I guess he's not a researcher for nothing!_

"But did you hear?" Bugsy chimed. "Because I kept winning, they changed the rules... still, it didn't take me long to figure them out... and the secret to winning."

"Secret? ...What?"

Winking, Bugsy wagged his finger at her. "I'll give you a hint. Strength... isn't about appearances. It's about experience and good health!"

"Hmm." Lyra held her chin in contemplation. "How esoteric..."

"It's easy to understand when you apply it to pokemon. Here you go!" Shoving Lyra through the gatehouse door, he moved aside to allow Anonymous passage, since the pokemon had been silently following them and picking flowers the whole time.

Bumping into the Contest Warden by the doorway, Lyra stammered to explain herself: "I'm here..." She paused. "FOR The Contest."

"The Contest?" the dark haired man repeated ominously– giving her an unforgiving side glance. Bearing a red, police-like uniform and a harsh, judgmental disposition, he razed the depths of her soul with trepidation, and basically scared her poopless. It was only the 'Park Warden' badge on his chest and the red of his coat and cap that kept her from running away—screaming.

"Ye...yee... yes." Lyra's knees wobbled and her brow sweated profusely. But she swallowed her fear and stood bravely.

"You have too many pokemon," the attendee grumbled lowly, instructing her to leave the rest with the warden behind the nearby desk. Relievedly, this other warden was far less fear-inducing.

"Haha, don't worry about that other guy," the desk warden said. "Even though he takes his job WAY too seriously, he's not a bad guy! But still... if only he would stop putting up all those weird signs in the park!"

Lyra leaned over the counter and slammed her hands down. "I saw those signs! So that was HIM," she uttered. "So. What does he have against 'ball playing', anyways?"

"It's a LONG and inappropriate story which you don't want to know. Trust me! Here. You'll need these for the contest." Handing Lyra the bug-catching pokeballs, he sent her and Anonymous off to play... and to face the trials of THE CONTEST.

* * *

On the outskirts of the Ruins of Alph stood a modest research lab—a single story building that appeared more like a house inside due to the workaholic nature of its head researcher, Crystal—the girl genius who had long since abandoned her childhood home in New Bark Town. Of course, she had set up her desk, bed, and supplies throughout the lab in order to sustain her basic human needs while totally devoting herself to work, but Ethan—after initially becoming Crystal's bodyguard through Lyra's trickery– took it upon himself completely to correct what he believed were poor living conditions.

In the makeshift kitchenette area– a lab counter with a sink and various plug-in appliances—Ethan stood, humming and carefully stirring a mixing bowl. Though his back was turned away from the lab's occupants, he was still aware of Crystal, Marill, and especially Togepi, who wobbled curiously across the floor.

Crystal, having dumped her desk drawer's contents on the floor, was busy sorting through it. In the process of making a pile, though, her hand knocked a tray of pens loose– which revealed themselves to be tangled by a charm.

"This is..." she muttered, pulling the charm loose.

It was a deformed blue pom-pom phone charm dirtied with age and neglect. Holding the mangled fuzz ball up in the early afternoon light, she solemnly surveyed it. It was one of the remnants of her short-lived childhood. _How'd this get here?_ she wondered; _somehow, it hitched a ride in my desk supplies when I hastily left home... _Clutching the charm, she recalled that Lyra still had hers. _That's right, last time I saw, she had hers hanging off her pokegear... Despite how messy she is, hers still looked very clean. Bright and new. _

Crystal scoffed in realization. _Of course, she must've ran her pokegear through the wash or something_...She correctly guessed this because she knew Lyra all too well:_ That puffyheaded fool is never careful with her electronics– and she hoards old stuff for way too long!_

"Gepiii?" Togepi trilled, waddling over to Crystal and clinging to her side. Filled with contentment, his eyes peacefully closed and he sighed.

Crystal, however, fidgeted irritatedly.

Hiding the pom-pom in her hand, Crystal glared at the mess before her. _Back then, I wanted to make Lyra a pom-pom Jumpluff doll for her sixth birthday, _she remembered;_ but I've always been bad at handicrafts... so I failed. _

_Out of the dozens of pom-poms I made, only two were any good. _

_Ethan found me, later, depressed and sulking on my doorstep, so he helped me..._

_He trimmed those frumpy pom-poms small and neat, and tied their middle binding strings into loops... to make a pair of trendy friendship phone charms._

_I know it's stupid now... but it was like magic to me._

_He was like a magician to me._

Trying to tuck the phone charm into her pocket, she hissed in frustration when she found Togepi blocking it. "Hey. Go play or something," she commanded. "Get! I'm busy."

Togepi trilled and clung to her even tighter.

"You little egg puff– I'm not joking around!" Standing up, Crystal jumped in place, furiously trying to shake him off. _Why do you like me so much? I'm not even the nurturing type!_

_Why didn't you just stay with Lyra instead?..._

Setting down his mixing bowl, Ethan leapt out from behind the counter and grabbed Togepi before he dropped. "Hey," Ethan yelled, holding him up in the air; "You know better than to bug your mom when she's busy!"

"I'm not his mom," Crystal interjected.

Ethan clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Mom or not, you need to be careful with this guy... even if you're busy."

"Gepi," Togepi huffed.

"Yeah... she always is." Ethan agreed. "But that's because she's a genius. How about you become a genius, too, so you can help her out with work?"

Togepi frowned and bit his lip– almost as if threatening to cry.

Ethan panicked. "Tha, that's no good! Work isn't that bad! Don't let my laziness rub off on ya. Now say... 'mama'."

Crystal hastily threw her drawer together. "You! Don't be teaching him useless things... He should receive a well-rounded education." She rammed the drawer back into her desk.

"Mi... gepi gapi," Togepi babbled, struggling with each utterance; "pi... gapa... pi... Papa." Togepi waived his fat little arms and said it again: "Papa." He smiled ignorantly.

The room fell silent, and Ethan, dumbstruck by Togepi's proclamation, regarded the pokemon with disturbed curiosity.

"Papa?" Ethan garbled out. "Me?"

Crystal's face burned bright red and she hastily looked away. "I told you, don't teach him useless things!" she blasted. "I mean... what's with you? Why, why do you still hang around here, always helping me out? Going out of your way all the time... Don't you ever go HOME?"

Ethan set Togepi back down on the ground and frowned. "I don't think I'm around here that much... I go home every now and then," he said; "And as for going out of my way..." He proudly brandished his arm. "I'm just doing what I CAN."

"But– but– furnishing my lab with random goods–" Crystal stammered, pointing at the blue decorative carpet, all the pokedolls, posters, feathery beds and tropical plants; "–and obstructing my lab counters with absurd household appliances... doing my laundry... and most importantly– always making cookies! Why? Why... WHY?"

"That's... It's because you're... an important friend," he answered hesitantly; "And. Ah. Well... Lyra, she asked me to protect you... Remember?"

Sitting down in her chair, Crystal scooted back into her desk and looked down. "I see," she said calmly. "I'm sorry for yelling... and thanks for all your hard work. I know I'm high-strung, so it's probably stressful living with me... Well. After you finish up, you should go home. I'll send all your stuff to you PC, so don't worry about it. And afterward... you should go see Lyra."

"...Crystal?"

"While you're at it, you should take some equipment to go scan her head for me." Crystal laughed. "That girl says and does so many dumb things, its really suspicious! And you're always looking at your pokegear these days– waiting for her to call, right? So. Go on." Never looking up, Crystal raised her hand and waived it, shooing him off. Despite the lightheartedness of her words, there was a sense of defeat in them.

"I understand," Ethan answered sadly. "I understand if I'm bothering you, but I..."

A steady knock sounded at the door, and before he could finish his sentence, Crystal had already jumped up to open it herself.

_A visitor?_ Ethan wondered, keeping a tentative distance behind Crystal. When the girl opened the front lab door, a familiar face greeted them. A young man with slicked blonde hair, purple tuxedo, and a new white cape topped with a red bow tie.

It was Eusine.

"Imagine you here... again," Crystal said.

"Yo," Eusine answered. "We meet on your front doorstep. Again... It must be destiny!"

"Heh... Well. I've been waiting for you, Eusine."

His blue eyes unexpectedly perked up.

"That's right," Crystal continued; "You know, I thought it over, long and hard... a way to stop your incessant... and unpredictable behavior, and in the end, I came up with only one good, LEGAL solution." Pulling a pokeball from her lab coat, she dropped it into his hand. "Take it. I'm sending my bodyguard, Ethan, away, and honestly, I wish to continue my research alone in peace just like before... and to sleep at night. So I leave Suicune in your care. Bye bye... FOREVER~" She sang gleefully as she closed the door in his face.

"Wait!" he yelled, jamming his foot in the door; "Do you mean... that we'll never see each other again?"

"Why yes. Yes. Suicune is yours! There's no need to stalk and challenge me anymore, so this is goodbye."

Thrusting his arm through the door's opening, Eusine dropped the pokeball back inside the lab. "Then take it back," he proclaimed; "I don't want it."

Crystal yanked the door wide open and gawked at him. "What?" she demanded incredulously.

Holding his hand over his heart, Eusine magically pulled a massive rose bouquet from his sleeve and put it into her bewildered hands. He suavely lowered his head. "I'm obsessed once again," he said; "you, a woman of fate who was fatefully chosen by Suicune, are as sharp as the northern wind itself." He threw out his arms– as if relenting to some unseen force. "I am purified by your harshness and reborn in the after-burgeoned spring!"

"Wha... what?" Crystal choked.

"You do not have to answer my feelings now." He glanced at her daringly. "I will wait in pursuit until the day you say yes."

Crystal stared off into the distance with glassy, lifeless eyes. "So. So you're not going to stop following me?..."

Eusine conveniently ignored her. "When that day arrives," he said, "I will relinquish myself completely to you... and in your shadow, I will always remain no less than two steps away!"

Crystal finally regained her senses. "DIPSTICK." She threw the bouquet aside. "That's that whole crap-rankling problem!" _And just how old are you, anyway?...!_

"You are adverse now, but your abuse makes my feelings even stronger." He arrogantly threw back his cape. "Like this, I will cherish everything about you."

Crystal practically roared in his face: "GET OUT."

"If you think I'm lying, I'll show you some proof." Paying no heed to Crystal's outrage, Eusine calmly pulled a ring case from his pocket. Opening it, he revealed a diamond framed marquise-cut sapphire platinum ring. "It's as genuine as my affections," he declared.

Unnerved by his insanely profound confidence, Crystal stood there– flabbergasted. "We... We have nothing in common," she uttered.

"Oh, but we do!" Eusine declared; "We have **Suicune**!"

"NO. JUST NO." Before Crystal could furiously lunge at Eusine, Ethan swung her away from the doorway and stood in her place.

"Crystal is not interested in you," Ethan said sharply. "Leave." He closed the door defiantly on Eusine.

Surprised, Crystal looked down at her hand– which Ethan was firmly grasping. He was tightly holding it– almost as if he was afraid that her fingers would slip through. Flustered, she found herself unable to look him in the face.

"I was saying something important... before all _that_ just now," Ethan said suddenly, "about my 'bothering' you... The truth is... I'm." He paused and grinned confusedly. "I mean, I don't understand it myself– but I'm actually doing all these strange things for... very selfish reasons."

Crystal gulped to keep her hopes down. "So? It's ok to be selfish," she scoffed. "I believe it's fine, just as long as you're honest about it."

Unexpectedly, Ethan slid his hand up her arm. "Then honestly," he said, "even though I'm just bothering you... I want to keep bothering you." His face burned and he pulled her close. "If that makes any sense," he added.

Crystal nodded agreeably. "YES," she answered.

Just then, the lab's side window slid open, and Eusine, scaling the ledge, brought his legs up and over– inviting himself inside. Togepi immediately noticed him and screamed.

"Huh?" Ethan spun around, jumping into battle. "Hey! Don't push your luck! I told you to leave," he yelled, charging at Eusine; "Marill, Rollout!"

Marill determinedly jumped out from the kitchenette and followed command. "MAAAR–" he yowled, folding up his blue floaty tail. "–Reee~" He squeaked as he revved up.

"I knew it," Eusine said, flipping his wrist and conjuring a pokeball. "I knew that it would come to this... I guess this means we're rivals!"

"Rivals?" Ethan spat.

Eusine pointed rudely at the boy. "That's right! ...LOVE rivals. Fight me in a pokemon battle!"

Ethan gritted his teeth and crossed his arms. "Challenge ACCEPTED."

Crystal held her face in total disbelief. _Ethan, you're a really nice guy and all that, but... _ Her hands shook as she realized this;

_YOU'RE __REALLY__ WEAK AND GONNA LOSE._

_[Eusine: three level 25+ pokemon]_

_[Ethan: one level 17 Marill]_

_25+25+27=77_

_-17=_

_60_

_..._

Crystal grabbed Ethan's arms, opened the front door, and yanked him outside– down the Ruin's dirt path– and far beyond. Trilling and yowling, Togepi and Marill chased after them– with Eusine far behind.

"Crystal!" Ethan huffed, startled by her stunt. "Why'd do that? I was gonna take him on!"

"The only thing you were gonna take on–" Crystal wheezed, "–was TOTAL DEFEAT."

Ethan slowed down for her. "So we're just running away?" he asked, his feet slowly pounding gravel. "I don't know what you're thinking..."

"I'm thinking..." she trailed, "we'll lose him in the National Park."

They picked up the pace and ran north.

* * *

**Marlin used Wall of Text. It was super-effective!**

**BEHOLD, the only Eusine x Crystal fanart in existence!**

**happytown. orahoo kakkokari / images / IT000200810230448ff7b09400a5. jpg**

***remove spaces***

**(Ha, well there's a few more pics out there, but they're obviously not a very popular pairing...)**


	45. Leaded Crystal

Blinding and muggy– the late afternoon arrived– exhausting the contestants and confusing the tree-burrowing Nincada into caterwauling fervently, as if it were still August.

Pushing apart pungent bunches of grass and searching the ground in between, Lyra hummed and babbled mindlessly– and monotonously– since the contest had long since bored her completely stupid.

"Hoyoyo," Lyra blurted, picking up a boulder. "...Nope." She placed it back down. Anonymous faithfully followed her through the jungle of grass, and with the paranoid seriousness of a soldier engaged in guerilla warfare. Definitely not a grass-dwelling creature by type, the Octillery spat ink when he heard a frightening noise from behind. Slithering up, a pokemon attacked, and he and Lyra spun around with intense anticipation.

It was a Caterpie.

Lyra fell on her hands and knees, shaking with delirium. "I just don't care anymore," she said, letting her neck go limp.

Pulled into battle, Anonymous and the Caterpie danced around in a circle, threatening each other with slithers and hisses, and Lyra, quickly gathering all that was left of her determination, took responsibility and stood back up. "Sizing each other up, yeah?" she guessed, pulling out every Park Ball in her possession. She began chucking them at the Caterpie.

"Octi-le-ghree?" Anonymous demanded, angered that the Caterpie kept breaking free and attacking him. Standing around in a battle was not his style, so he wished to know why Lyra wasn't issuing any commands.

"Heh! Battle junkie. Do you really need to ask me that?" Lyra replied, dodging aside as the Caterpie dashed underfoot. "One hit from you, and this bug's gone. The contest's almost over, and we're not going to the judges empty-handed! So just keep doing what you're doing."

Anonymous flailed left and right as the Caterpie kept attacking and stringing him up with sticky threads. By now, he was very annoyed and quite eagerly wished to drown the bug with Surf.

"We've only got half the balls left," Lyra said, pitching a Park Ball. "GET IN MAH POKEBALL–" she yelled, smacking the Caterpie on the belly. Siphoning her inside, the ball rolled and twitched on the grass. It budged and teetered, quivered and tottered, and at last, it made a satisfying "ZING~"

Both Lyra and Anonymous threw their arms and tentacles in the air.

"Le-ghree~" Anonymous wailed, glad that it was finally over.

"We caught a freakin' caterpie~" Lyra sang, tears welling in her eyes since she knew they made a losing choice.

The contest, being far shorter than they were making it out to be, soon ended, and the contestants gathered before the large, central water fountain. In front of the orderly line of contestants, the kinder park warden stood and checked his clipboard. "Placing third is Bug Catcher Ed, who caught a writhing Pinsir!" he announced, his uniform's metal details glistening in the sun. "Placing second is Ace Trainer Nick, who caught a surprising Scyther!"

Lyra, who had chosen to stand on the far end of the line, pulled her cap down over her eyes. _Pinsir? Scyther? I looked in the tall grass, but I couldn't find either of those pokemon... _she thought, disappointed by her bad luck. _And I couldn't figure out how to use Bugsy's advice to my advantage... ah..._ Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bugsy watching excitedly from the grass among the other spectators. Lyra snapped back around when the other contestants her lowered their cheering. The final results were about to be announced.

"And this Bug-Catching Contest winner is..." the warden crowed; "Pokemon Trainer Lyra, who caught a whopping Caterpie."

"EHHH?" Lyra yelped in disbelief, only to be immediately blasted by loud jeers of disapproval.

"Lyra wins the number one prize, a sun stone!" the clueless warden sang; "Everyone else gets a berry as a consolation prize." He handed them their lame prizes and all their pokemon back.

Taking the sun stone and her team in hand, Lyra looked up to find the other contestants circled around her. Conveniently, the park warden had instantly disappeared– nowhere to be found.

"Just like a REAL policeman," Lyra remarked, holding the sun stone close to her chest. She yanked her cap brim straight as the other contestants confronted her.

"You rigged The Contest, didn't you?" Ace Trainer Nick accused, rudely pointing at her. His companion, Bug Trainer Ed, merely huffed.

"Now now, SLAVE, don't be concerning yourself with other people's matters," Bug Catcher Ed proclaimed.

"But, but," Nick sobbed; "You said you'd give me my badges back if I won the contest... but we both lost!"

"OTHER PEOPLE'S MATTERS," Ed echoed, stomping his foot down. "Kneel down before the great Ed! The only Bug-Catcher in the lands with four badges!"

"You're even meaner than that red-haired guy–" Nick yelled, throwing himself on the ground obediently, "–'cause you said you'd give me back my badges if I was your slave, too, you little bunco artist!"

"Red-haired guy?" Lyra murmured.

"YOU." Nick glared up at Lyra. "This is all your fault!"

"H-hold on a moment." Lyra held up her hands. "I didn't do anything underhanded. I only caught a really awesome Caterpie– apparently."

"Silence, scammer!" Ed denounced, stamping his bug net on the ground twice, like a royal scepter, and summoning the contestants' wild complaints:

"YEAH. YOU RIGGED THE CONTEST."

"Cheater!"

"There's no way a Caterpie could beat me... I caught a Paras!"

"Can we throw rocks at her yet?"

"Wha– NO," Ed snapped, not letting anyone usurp his power.

"Whoa, hold it." Lyra frowned. "There's a good reason for all this. I mean... I dunno, maybe you all caught scrawny, malnourished boy pokemon," she explained; "That would make sense. I caught a female Caterpie, after all, and most scientists agree that girl pokemon are better-fed!"

All the other contestants, being scrawny boys, naturally went silent with indignation. Their silence did not last long, though, and they were soon back to jeering. "LIAAAR–" they roared, promptly mobbing her.

"–WHAAA–" Lyra bellowed, backing and jumping up onto the fountain ledge in refuge; "What... what hostile children–" she gasped, pulling out her Sun Stone and holding it way up over her head. Catching the sparkling sunlight in its cloudy, ruddy gem body, she then faced them all. "Ha! I'm out of here," she exclaimed daringly, holding the Sun Stone forward:

"–CHAOS CONTROL."

Intensely closing her eyes, she froze in place, as if expecting something to actually happen. But nothing did happen. It had no effect.

"What the..." a youngster murmured.

The boys stood around and watched her in perplexed silence– and as Lyra continued to pose in place– numerous dewy drops of nervous sweat began precipitating on her brow.

In a few more moments, the boys were all yelling once again, but this time with a purpose:

"DUNK HER."

Struggling to hold onto her hat and Sun Stone, Lyra bellowed, was shoved and pushed– and with a booming splash– fell backwards into the park fountain.

* * *

Dashing out from the gatehouse and into the National Park, Crystal and Ethan huffed, Togepi and Marill squeaking tiredly by their feet.

"There's a break in the fence over there," Crystal said, pointing to her right. "If we hurry through it, we can hide in the grove beyond."

"Good," Ethan responded bravely. "You go. Marill and I will stay here... to hold Eusine off!" Clenching his fists, he gazed heavenwards, clearly pumped up by the opportunity to valiantly fight off her stalker.

Crystal frowned worriedly. "Ethan..." she grumbled. _You're more like a sacrifice than a bodyguard..._

In the distance, though, the loud lapping and splashing sound of people playing in water caught their attention. _That's funny,_ Ethan thought, looking straight ahead, _There's no swimming pool here–_

"–Lyra," Crystal gasped, "and Bugsy–"

Ethan blinked rapidly. "–WHAT THE?"

In the large center park fountain stood Lyra, wringing out her hat and glaring at a group of boys who had climbed in after her. Pressing up against her, they managed to knock her down on her butt, but she slipped out from under them.

From behind, a courageous Bugsy jumped and clawed at their' backs, yelling as loudly as he could: "GO AWAY–"

Ace Trainer Nick, being the eldest boy there, shoved Bugsy back, and while he was preoccupied, two Bug Catchers, a Youngster and a Camper grabbed for Lyra's pigtails. They were surprised when she rapidly shook her head to weaponize them.

"Ya-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-taa," Lyra yelled, whipping them away with her heavily soaked pigtails, her fierce battle cry resounding throughout the park.

"They're bullying her!" Crystal cried, puckering her face in disgust. "Ok Ethan," she agreed, cracking her knuckles; "you stay HERE." Stomping ferociously, she ran for the fountain, and with an anger that was rarely ever mustered: an anger saved for all occasions 'Lyra'.

Jumping into the fountain and sloshing through it, Crystal grabbed the green-clad Camper by his nose and shoved him under. "LAY OFF HER," she yelled, "YOU DIPSTICKS. GRR–" Elbowing the Youngster, she attempted to drown them both– until Nick grabbed and pushed her under. Swinging her fists and fighting him off, Crystal sat up and gasped– her yellow skullcap floating away. Her dark blue pigtails, once even loftier than Lyra's, were suddenly limp and undone.

Confused, the boys stopped to stare.

Crystal's hair, when let down, was waist-length and surprisingly attractive. She looked like an entirely different person, even.

"Wait a minute," the Camper gasped, rubbing his eyes. "You're... you're–"

The boys abandoned Lyra and swiftly crowded around Crystal. "–It's AQUA*MARINA!" they pronounced, awkward asterisk symbol and all. It was a wonder how they managed that.

Lyra, who was busy looking down into the water, opened her mouth excitedly at the sight of something. "Ooh... money!" She roused, scooping up dripping coins and stuffing them into her overalls. Only moments later did her brain finally process what was going on around her; she dropped a few coins in surprise. "Wha?" she gasped, looking up at Crystal's revealed form.

"That is... I'm not... I," Crystal stammered, caught off-guard by the boys' star-struck stares. "Ok." She admitted; "Sometimes I am! I've gotta fund my research somehow..." _Since my parents practically disowned me for going off on my own..._

"Do you know what this MEANS?" Bug Catcher Ed bubbled, increasing his height by standing up on the fountain ledge. "We know the true identity of the famous and secret pop-idol– herself!"

"Yeah, but," Nick remembered, "wasn't she more popular awhile back? AQUA*MARINA... She was a big CM star who appeared in every ad imaginable... but now you hardly ever see her."

Jumping up from the water, Lyra quickly diverted the issue. "But her last single, 'CRAZY~WISHING', was released just last month," she exclaimed; "You all rushed out to get it, too, right?"

"Oh yeah," the Camper, a boy named Barry, remarked. "I guess that wasn't TOO long ago..." Though he said this, he wasn't ACTUALLY sure if it was long ago or not. After all, he was too small to yet properly experience the true, relentless barrage of time.

Blushing, Crystal choked irritatedly. "You... you didn't actually buy it, right?" she asked Lyra, too embarrassed to face her; "You didn't actually listen to it, right?"

"Of course I did!" Lyra cheered; "Though you disguised yourself, I recognized you and your voice right away, and I bought all of your singles as they came out!" Lyra's smile faded into a guilty frown. "But I... I couldn't afford your remix collection CD, so I... I pirated it."

Crystal glared at her. "Thank you for your honesty."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Ace Trainer Nick yammered; "A famous person like YOU knows this GIRL?" He rudely pointed at Lyra.

"Of course!" Crystal announced, patting Lyra on the back; "This GIRL is my childhood friend."

"R-really?" Lyra sniffled, deeply moved.

"Don't act so surprised, puffy head. They'll doubt us."

"What a shock," the only Youngster in the group exclaimed. He immediately pulled out a permanent ink marker and handed it to Crystal. "Please sign my shorts!" he begged, backing his butt up to her. It was a miracle that they were still dry.

"Why... in such an area?" Crystal shrunk back.

"Huh? What'd ya say?"

"Nothing. Never mind... Name?"

"Youngster Samuell!"

Soon, the two Bug Catchers wanted their bug nets signed– and then Camper Barry with his cap– and even Ace Trainer Nick with a Full Restore; but only because he wanted to sell it for an inflated price afterward. Lyra, bored with this procession, pulled out the newly won Sun Stone once again, but only to marvel at it. _I can't believe I won it... What an accomplishment! _

But still, the prospects for the stone's use, or lack of, left her feeling troubled. _It's... kinda too bad that it's not a Leaf Stone, _she thought; _Then I could've evolved Weepinbell..._ Though she had gone far with him, he was starting to fall behind on her team from disuse. Holding up the Sun Stone in one hand, and Weepinbell's pokeball in the other– as if wishing the two could instantly merge– she stared through the pokeball's window at Weepinbell's dormant form.

"I remember... I trained you seriously," Lyra said suddenly, remembering that time they whipped Silver's Croconaw back in Azalea Town. "I never held back, thinking you wouldn't do, with that doubt that threatens trainers' minds... well. I think you know where I'm going with this." She thought of Kneebiter and the electrifying feeling she got from her– she didn't doubt if Weepinbell felt it as well. Weepinbell was strong, but that brave little Sunkern offered some undeniable team chemistry. "I know you're indelible– I know this from back when you defeated Bugsy, and with crushing execution– but, once again, I wish to take on another comrade."

Lyra brought Weepinbell's pokeball close to her chest, swearing to never forget her imminent promise: "Though you'll be a part-timer for now on, one day," she swore, "I'll evolve you to your final form!"

Holding up his signed Full Restore, Nick glared at Lyra. "Pff! Talking to her pokeballs," he scoffed; "Crazy!"

"Crazy enough to know how things WORK," Lyra retorted. "Anyways." She turned away. "In reflection... where's Bugsy?" Had he slipped away during all the action? She had no clue, but the idea suddenly lingered damply that he perhaps drowned. Though the water was only knee-deep, she knew it was more than enough. Searching around worriedly– and angering Nick further with her disinterest in him– her face turned blue when she instead found Togepi floating by, face down in the water.

"Cra... Crystal," Lyra stuttered horrifically, watching the egg silently drift. "Togepi DROWNED."

Crystal instantly dropped the borrowed, permanent ink marker and frantically searched the water. Squealing inwardly when she saw Togepi, she plucked him up and frantically turned him upright– checking his face like a true parental unit.

It was then that Crystal saw it: a clear bendy straw protruding from his mouth.

A stray drinking straw– which had been repurposed for the function of breathing noisily through.

Kicking up his little feet, Togepi smiled joyously, leaving Crystal quite bamboozled.

"Oh," Lyra observed uselessly; "I guess he was just snorkeling!"

Exasperated, Crystal fell backwards into the water– holding Togepi safely above the water line. _Why do I have the feeling!_ she thought;_ that this little guy absorbed some of Lyra's FREAKY personality?_

Togepi foolishly tossed the straw into the water after Crystal. Who knows what he was trying to accomplish!

It was then that a loud crash shook the fountain, frightening everybody out from the water. Crystal and Lyra– climbing out last but standing firmly nearby to watch– glared at the noisy source with intense bewilderment.

Ethan's Marill, currently battling Eusine's Haunter, had done a powerful Roll Out into the fountain, nearly cracking the cement side.

"Marill!" Ethan screamed, virtuously worried about damaging park property, "what are you doing? Get over here!"

Prowling after Marill, his foe, Haunter, hopscotched from shadow to shadow, chortling as he drew nearer and drooling in anticipation of victory.

From a distant patch of grass, Eusine called out, "Shadow Ball!" and commandingly flung his arm outwards.

Haunter obeyed impishly. Pulling darkening particles into his claws, a ball of flashing, necro energy gathered there and steadily launched forward, forcing Marill back. Screeching, Marill gasped and rolled– and no longer able to keep up– fainted on the tawny brick pavement.

"I'm impressed!" Eusine exclaimed, now pointing at Ethan, "that a trainer of your caliber made it nearly halfway through such a battle... However, you still lost. Do you know what that means?"

Lyra snuck up alongside Ethan– as stealthily as a Haunter– and just as annoyingly, too. "Yeah," she badgered him; "What does that mean?"

Ethan's nose went red with agitation. "Don't concern yourself," he meekly managed out, "with the business of men!"

Holding her stomach, Lyra threw back her head and gave such a loud belly laugh– one so brimming with pure, unbridled amusement– that Ethan couldn't help but feel further patronized and humiliated.

Crystal glared at Lyra disapprovingly, since she could clearly read the scheming expression on the girl's face; no doubt she was quite proud of herself.

Lyra clasped her hands together and beamed evilly. _The mood, the mood seems good between Ethan and Crystal– no doubt they've been using this time to catch up. He's fallen for her as planned! And this guy here– _Lyra sized Eusine up with duplicitous eyes, causing him to step back uncomfortably; _he's as dandy as ever! A fine competitor for Lady Crystal's patronage. Wahahaha! Slick blond hair, purple tux, and a stylish white red-bowed cape that I always covet so much–_

Lyra froze.

"White cape," she babbled; "White cape? Red bow." She stared at Eusine in his purple tux and white cape. A white cape with a red bow. It was on his back. The cape, yes, he was magically wearing it! However, its hem was no longer torn, nor was it any shorter from being repaired; it looked entirely white and new as well.

"It REGENERATED." Lyra inhaled sharply, holding her awestruck face and feeling that this absurd idea was true. "I must. Re-harvest it." Her eyes glistened with the intentions of her scheming, criminal body.

Ignoring the interruption, Eusine closed his eyes and gracefully placed a hand over his heart. "Now then. The battle is over," he began, "and with this, the agreement that Ethan and I made–"

"–Throw off your cape," Lyra called out suddenly, "Crystal finds it exciting–"

"–NO YOU," Crystal blasted.

"Oh you!"

"Well, if the ladies like it that much..." Eusine said, untying his cape.

_This guy!_ Crystal fumed.

Ethan's mouth fell wide open. _Doesn't he ever LEARN?_

"HWA," Eusine yelled out, magnificently tossing his fluttering cape onto the ground.

Lyra walked over and tucked it under her arm.

"He-hey," Eusine uttered, beckoning Lyra, "please don't take that... again." He crouched down to her level and made clicking noises, as if coaxing a feral creature.

Lyra growled and bundled the cape even closer.

Both Crystal and Ethan thought finally: _NO_, _he NEVER learns!_

"You don't understand," Eusine cried, his face growing ever paler, "Morty went through a great deal of trouble to re-create that cape for me... you don't know how many fabric samples he ordered just to find the right red."

Lyra stammered: "He... can sew?"

"And very well. He is a great tailor. He made that cape and the last one." Eusine sighed sadly. "I just hope he foresaw this and made me an extra..."

Trembling, Lyra eyed the fresh white linen cradled in her arms. "Impossible," she muttered. "This beautiful object was crafted by the lanky, evil-imbued fingers of the Demon King?" _If that's so, then it must contain residual traces of his miasma... though I can sense none. _Lyra glanced up at Eusine in thought.

_Then could it be that it was cleansed by THIS man's earnest spirit? If not, then, at what cost do I wear this cape? _

Held overhead, the cape whipped and billowed in a sudden gust of warm, afternoon wind.

"–AT WHAT COST?" Lyra cried.

Eusine gingerly wandered over and held his hands out to her. "If you don't want it," he said, "then could I please have it back?"

Lyra stuffed it away inside her bag.

"I am a gentleman!" Eusine yelled angrily, pointing at both Lyra and then Ethan, and alternating sporadically; "but I won't take this all lying down. No! Still, I will handle this in a gentleman-like manner. Yo!"

Ethan raised his hand. "But I've never heard a gentleman say 'yo' before," he spoke.

"Silence!"

Crystal huffed irritatedly. "Quit goofing around," she said, "I wish to go home and change out of these wet clothes."

"Oh. I have a better idea," Ethan said suddenly. "We can go to my grandparents' house and soak in their luxurious hot spring bath!"

"Hmm," Crystal considered; "That _does_ sound better..."

"I'm done with baths– just you guys go!" Lyra yelled, her face turning red in remembrance. _I can't go back there! Not after Ethan saw me all nakey!_

"Why?" Crystal interrogated; "What do you have against a _luxurious _hot bath?"

"Enough!" Eusine declared, then facing Ethan. "How can you be talking about hot baths after you just lost our battle? Our bet? Aren't you a man of your word?"

"Bet?" Crystal snapped, scowling with great displeasure.

Ethan laughed nervously at her. "Yeah... I sort of... betted you," he explained.

Crystal chortled impatiently: "Next you'll be saying that you used me as collateral to procure a loan!"

"You can laugh, but the fact still remains," Eusine said, "Ethan and I had a decisive duel for the right of your love!"

"Voided in legal standing! Unless you have a SANE business contract for me, none of my products are yours."

"Your love, beautiful Crystal, is not a product."

"YOU SURE GET ALONG LIKE IT IS."

"Now now, don't shout, however feisty you are, my amour fou–"

"I've had enough of this dumb conversation, get out of my sight–"

"–I'm not leaving without you!"

Still held tightly in Crystal's arms, Togepi began squirming and wriggling and somehow managed to budge himself loose. Falling to the ground and bouncing twice, he stood upright, smack in between his arguing mother and an ever persistent Eusine.

"Geprriii," Togepi shrieked, making angry eyes and energetically waiving his arms of boiled egg texture. "Gepi to gepi."

"You want to fight?" Ethan translated the pokemon's words: "Man to man?"

Togepi stomped his feet like a micro wrestler. "Togi gep gep."

"Hey Eusine, Togepi says the battle isn't over," Ethan confided to the man.

Eusine crossed his arms at his. "If that's the case, then I'd be honored to finish it," he declared, raising a hand. "Haunter–"

All this time, the ghost pokemon had been hovering through the grass, turning it brown with his cold, noxious body and giggling at such mischief. He willingly parted from this taske, though, and lunged himself forward at Togepi, shrilling freakishly all the while: "Hua-TAAA~"

"Togepi," Crystal gasped, watching him in concern. "You don't have to do this..." _All this time, my friends have been watching over me, but I've been pushing them all away..._

_Togepi, Lyra... and Ethan..._

With a serious face, Togepi took Crystal's cry of concern as a compliment and suddenly pointed a decisive finger in the air– as if piercing the heavens– and shrilling suddenly, wagged it.

"Metronome?" Lyra exclaimed.

With an echoing burst, the pokeballs strapped to Crystal's bag exploded open, slowly revealing their phasing residents. Her starter, Meganium, reared his head and threw back his plant filament-like antennae, and a droopy eyed Stantler bucked his horns. A glowing Ampharos came into being as well, and stood on her haunches beside a hardened-looking Tyranitar.

Togepi, with a commanding little finger, pointed at Haunter, and the Beat-Up attack began. Moving in on Haunter, Crystal's team showcased their aptitude in strength and teamwork with rapidity. Togepi landed the first hit; Meganium and Stantler struck with well-timed stomps, and as Ampharos punched hurriedly, she moved aside and allowed Tyranitar with, what would be, the finishing blow.

But the wind grew cold and the trees shook. A strange, slow moving shadow, trailing in shaky light, drew over them, and moments later, a four-legged blur of blue and purple mane landed gracefully on the pavers.

"S... Suicune?" Eusine uttered, surprised by the pokemon's appearance. Even though it had been left in a pokeball back at the lab, it still heard Togepi's call. "I see... I understand now." Eusine watched as Suicune raised its head and roared deafeningly– all before rearing up and pouncing Haunter out.

"Togepi, it's not over yet," Ethan said, propping up a revived Marill, who suddenly looked more battle experienced. "We still have to protect Crystal! Eusine has one more pokemon... let's take care of it now!"

"Ethan... Togepi," Crystal murmured.

"Crystal, when we were younger, we were always together... but as we got older, we were kept away. We spent days waiting for you. Do you remember?" Ethan asked suddenly, lowering his head. "Do you remember the fuss we always made below your study window– Lyra and I– hollering at you with buckets on our heads and sticks in our hands, and toughly declaring ourselves knights of the captive princess?"

Overflowing with laughter, Crystal's eyes watered and softened. "Yes! The tutors used to get so mad– screaming at you and throwing books out the window," she exclaimed; "I couldn't tell you, but... I was so happy... that you didn't forget about me."

Lyra pipped in: "You're not easy to forget! So..." She leaned on Ethan's shoulder. "Don't let this guy use me as a substitute for YOU anymore. You understand? He should settle with the real thing."

Ethan went livid from Lyra's words. "You... don't oversimplify it like that!" He spat, angrily shaking his fists. "Don't get me wrong... That's personal! And what do you know?"

"Oh? But you make it so obvious!" Lyra goaded.

"I've lost," Eusine said suddenly, astonishing the three friends into silence. "Crystal... You three are truly amazing... I have never seen a battle this intense! I have no regrets... Farewell." He saluted, turning away.

"Eusine?" Lyra gasped, surprised by the quickness in which he gave up.

"But this isn't a permanent farewell," he replied; "I will continue my research on the rainbow-colored pokemon– as I still owe Morty the favor. And, because of that, I'm certain that our paths will cross again one day... Never let your heart falter, boy, or I'll make you regret it." As he said this, he shot a backward glance at Ethan.

Threatened, Ethan gulped and grabbed Crystal's hand, tugging her closer to his side. For about the hundredth time, the two murmured each other's names in a sickeningly sweet matter. This good mood between them, however, was ruined when they realized that Lyra was still watching them– and with perhaps her most perverse expression ever.

Lyra's eyes, upturned like a sly ghost's, and her lips, twisted into a smile, formed a leer of questionable character. "Now kiss!" she said, grabbing the two's heads and forcing them together.

Crystal punched her.

_~To be continued...~_

* * *

**Fricken plot. When's Silver gonna strip Lyra? Find out next time! **

**(No promises.)**


	46. Silver's Non Important Haircut

Pressing a cold lemonade can against her swollen face, Lyra flinched and let out a whimper when Crystal sat down beside her.

"Oh quit it," Crystal huffed, agitated. "I didn't punch you as hard as you're making it out to be."

Lyra pulled her legs up onto the park bench and said to the sky, vehemently: "But you really DID. You decked me harder than that Sudowoodo!"

"_What_ Sudowoodo?"

Pokemon trilled and rattled in the evergreen trees behind them– overreacting to Lyra's statement. Her and Crystal, enjoying the afternoon park shade, had decided to stay there even though Ethan had hurried back to Crystal's lab. (To check on the cookies that he'd left in the oven.)

"I'm glad," Lyra said suddenly, ignoring Crystal's question; "That everything went according to plan."

Crystal wasn't sure what this was all about, but answered back anyway: "Heh?"

"I was the one who sent Eusine after you, right? And Ethan. You remember that time before, don't you? When we were last here at this park… Back then, I vowed that I'd help you get together with Ethan… I guess I caused you a lot of trouble just to fulfill that promise... But it all worked out!"

Recalling that time before– back when they had argued in this very park– Crystal nodded. "I don't like it when people interfere with my affairs, but–" She frowned to keep from grinning like an idiot. "–Thanks for being a super counter-productive love rival."

Lyra smiled from behind the lemonade can. "Anytime," she said. "But I wanna... thank you as well. You said some true things back then. At that time, I was worried about superficial matters, and I was a bit of a coward… I was afraid to experience profounder things… but you were right. About... That... One thing." The can sloshed as Lyra used it to cover her reddening face.

"Hm?" Crystal emitted, trying to remember their entire conversation from that time. However, she could only remember shoving Lyra on the ground and yelling at her– probably for being an idiot. "Ah, sorry... I can't remember what I was scolding you about back then."

"You said... that I'd change my mind."

"About what?"

"That'd I meet some... geh," Lyra sputtered. "Forget it."

At last, Crystal remembered what it was. "Oh yeah," she quipped; "You said something dumb and kind of loser-ish back then. It was... pokemon are better than love? Yeah. I think that was it."

Lyra stood up and slammed her foot up on the bench. "DON'T JUDGE ME," she yelled.

"Goodness, who is this guy, anyway?" Crystal asked. "I kind of feel sorry for him…"

Lyra angrily flailed her arms. "Impossible! He's so inhuman– that feeling sorry for him is only an option! He just shows up randomly so he can growl and glare at me. And when I try to get closer, he scratches, hisses, and runs off. It's hard enough to understand him... so there's NO ROOM for pity. I'm... taking things slow so he can mature!"

"Sounds like a match." Crystal held her chin in reflection. "But then again, he sounds like a feral pokemon..." She glared at Lyra disgustedly. "Ugh... He'd better not be, or I will hit you."

"I'm... I'm not that way," Lyra said hesitantly. "But if I WAS… what would you DO?"

"I'm not having this conversation."

"POKEPHOBE."

"Not having it!"

Strangely reminded of her pokedex, Lyra brought it out and flipped it open. _I should... probably tell Crystal about this,_ she thought. One day Crystal would find out, probably during a very awkward radio show, so it was better to tell her right now.

"Hey... Remember this?" Lyra asked, handing the pokedex to Crystal. "I've been meaning to tell you about this... Elm asked me to fill it up under your name some time ago, so I've been doing that. I thought you should know. In case Professor Oak ever asks about it."

Crystal scowled at the device. "What?" she asked, her voice raising. She turned the pokedex over and observed it. "Elm did? He really asked you to? This... Why? Why did he do that? Was he... afraid that I'd disappoint him in front of the scientific community? Do I look THAT hopeless?"

"N-noo! It's just that it's a... pokedex," Lyra explained– as if this justified anything. "It was put in your hands... so it needs to be filled– even if it's by an assistant! That's right, just think of me as an assistant! It's not uncommon for researchers to take credit for work in such a way, anyways–"

"–ERAGGH–" Crystal gripped the pokedex, and howling madly, tore off its red case– revealing its green and gold circuitry. Jamming the dismantled device into her special pokegear, she typed frantically at its keypad.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Lyra bellowed, clawing at her puffy white cap. _You're destroying a priceless piece of machinery! _she agonized.

Unplugging the pokedex, Crystal snapped it back together. "I hacked your name over mine in the ownership registry," she explained. "It was easy to do since it had already auto-synched with your phone. This pokedex is now fully yours." She threw it into Lyra's hands.

Catching the pokedex, Lyra stared at its glossy screen. Her own name– no longer Crystal's– was entered in the device's complicated system profile. "Crystal…"

"Lyra!" Crystal said, standing up to face her; "Rightfully claim your own fame and glory… Only you should take credit for all your hard work! You understand? Go on– all the way to the Pokemon League and beyond. Show the world your skills and put all those haters in their place... people like my parents and their elitist friends– people who looked down on you and your family for all these years…"

Lyra lowered her head. _But Crystal... _she thought;_ Didn't you once look down on me, too?_

"Triumph eternally with that obnoxious pluckiness of yours– that burning spirit– which I always wished I had, and be proud enough to put your OWN name on your work," Crystal said, dismissing all of Lyra's insecurities; "Honor your beginnings. I'll cheer you on, and believe in you no matter what... because… you're my important childhood friend!"

Gulping back a sob, Lyra fought the powerful tears brimming in her eyes. "Crystal–" she wailed, realizing that the girl had finally– and always– accepted her; "I WILL." Unable to contain her happiness, she latched onto Crystal and bawled foolishly.

"There there," Crystal said gently, hugging the girl. "This one time is ok, but don't cry all time. Or else I will lose all respect for you." She honestly couldn't stand heroines like that.

"WAAAAH, OK..." Lyra managed out, sniffling rapidly and lifting her head to wipe away her tears. It was in this instance that Crystal noticed a purplish mark on the girl's neck.

"What is THAT?" Crystal blurted, jabbing a finger at it.

"ADAH!" Lyra yelped, clasping the sore spot. "–Eh? Why does it hurt there?" Re-imagining her ENTIRE day, she finally remembered that it was due to Bugsy biting her there. "Oh yeah," Lyra said to herself. "Come to think of it, I never did find out where Bugsy went."

"Bugsy?" Crystal murmured, holding her chin in reflection. "Hm. That's right. He was trying to save you from those fools earlier, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. Trying!"

"Uh huh. Well he probably went back to his gym... So don't worry about that guy," Crystal said, giving a disgusted scowl. "Because he knows how to take care of himself a little TOO WELL... plays the 'cute little brother' card, or so I've heard. He was infamous at the academy I went to, as 'the con-artist upperclassman who appears to be an elementary school student.' Or something."

"…What?" Lyra blurted. "Ca... con-artist upperclassman?"

"It's hard to believe it just by looking at him, but Bugsy's a WHOLE YEAR older than me," Crystal said. "Age sixteen. I guess he didn't get enough nutrients as a child, so he stayed small."

Lyra hunched forward, the sparkles fading from her eyes– the same eyes that had been glistening and shedding tears of joy only moments before. They were now dull and flat, like pieces of cardboard. _Bugsy,_ she thought;_ He is a whole year older than Crystal. That makes him two years older than me._ _Honestly. He's not an 8-year-old? But an older guy? Really?..._ She felt at the bite on her neck.

"Impossible…. I feel… bamboozled!" Lyra said, staring down at her palms. "So hateful... Yes… It's just like that feeling when you discover that your pen pal isn't a fashionable teenage girl from Viridian City… but a dirty old man from Celadon."

"Th-that's..." Crystal stopped, stupefied by this comparison– but mostly wondering how Lyra even knew how such a thing even felt like. _Has this specific thing actually... HAPPENED to YOU?_ Crystal wondered. She was so appalled that her mouth fell open.

Stepping away from the bench, Lyra brought Typhlosion out from his pokeball and led him away.

"Wh... Where are you going?" Crystal stammered.

Lyra stopped. Tilting her head back, she gazed at Crystal with her flat, lifeless eyes. "To Azalea Town's gym," she said. "To buuuurn... it doooown."

Crystal leapt up after her. "WHY?"

"Because we do this... believing in whatever, just so that we may never be despaired by the truth," Lyra muttered, clenching her fists in an effort to appear foreboding. "Some are content by these lies, but are you? Am I? We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. In this way, we turn lies into action. And that's what people look for in a summer movie."

"You can't freakin' excuse ARSON with fake philosophical narration!"

"But it works for brooding pretty boys?"

"You CAN'T phrase statements as a questions, either!"

"Ohohoh… Crystal." Lyra shook her head. "You may be a genius, but you are still a child– one who is not yet aware of how this world truly works!"

"This world or yours? It might be important to clarify, because insane logic CAN'T fly here." Though Crystal made this exceptionally good point, Lyra was already well on her way. Crystal dashed and tackled her to the ground.

"NOOO–" Lyra wailed, squirming. "You just don't understaaaand me!"

"You're right– I don't understand why you want to burn down an ENTIRE GYM."

"May I burn down one fourth, then?"

"NO. YOU DEFINITELY CAN'T."

"Why are you two so angry?" a boy suddenly asked, causing both Crystal and Lyra pause and look up. It was the boy of contention himself.

"Bugsy," Crystal gasped. She was immediately brushed aside by Lyra.

"Bugsy, I must set you on fire," Lyra said to the boy, quickly standing to her feet. "It is the way gentlemen solve things."

"On fire?" Bugsy asked, frowning sadly. "But why? Do you hate me, big sis?" Tears welled in his huge, lavender eyes.

"I... it's," Lyra began, once again mislead by his false youngness; "You deceived me on matters that I will explain to you later… when you are older." She said this to the boy who was two years her senior.

Crystal smacked face-first to the ground.

"Ok. But since I must stay alive until that time, I should stand in the water fountain," Bugsy said, pointing to it. "While you set me on fire."

"Right right, I had no intentions of killing you– only burning you generally," Lyra said, leading Typhlosion to the center of the park. "I know you're the bake master– of all burninators– but make sure you go easy on him," she said to her pokemon; "Low heat."

Typhlosion grunted in understanding.

"Why?" Crystal questioned– holding her forehead in frustration. "Why can I not understand ANY of this?" Kneeling on the ground, she wondered if her elite education was all for nothing. _Am I… truly worthy of being called a girl genius?_ she pondered. A cloud flew over the sun for a millisecond and made her world that much darker. But she got better!

* * *

The basement door latched shut behind Silver. Walking away from it, he glanced around the bustling hallway of Goldenrod's underground tunnel. _They're not where I thought they'd be…_ he thought bitterly; _I couldn't find any trace of them, either. I completely lost their trail because of that stupid dragon woman. _Silver's search for Team Rocket once again proved fruitless.

Clair– the dragon woman– whom he'd had the misfortune of running into previously (and thoughtlessly pissing off), had knocked him unconscious for a full day with some strange energy blast. When he awoke later, he found himself covered in Dark Cave's rubble and the bodies of noisy Geodude who were dutifully re-building the collapsed walls. After that, Silver tirelessly walked all the way to Goldenrod. He had been searching every known basement for Team Rocket ever since.

"Ugh," Silver groaned, trudging around the corner and holding his head, which was still aching from the concussion (compliments of Clair). "It hurts. Like my brain was knocked loose… I'll get her for this," he swore, passing a shop booth.

It was then that a man wearing an apron jumped out at Silver with a sharp pair of scissors. This deeply startled the boy.

"Young man, how about a FREE HAIRCUT?" the crazed man implored, snipping at the air several times.

Alarmed, Silver's pupils contracted to a near-invisible size. "Piss off!" he yelled, instantly repelled by the man.

"But… but… it's a free haircut," the man continued; "No one ever passes those down! And you need one, right? Look at all those split ends! That uneven outgrowth! Your marvelous red hair is in need of management and a trim!"

"Humph," Silver huffed, firmly crossing his arms. "I don't need such worthless things. Haircuts are for the weak."

Not accepting this excuse, the hair-stylist held up a hand-mirror to Silver. "I heard you talking to yourself just now," he said. "You're having girl problems, aren't you?" The man pushed the mirror into Silver's face. "And I can see why. Just look at how scruffy you are!" He paused. "You've really let yourself go."

"Get that away from me!"

"Haven't you heard? Women respect a well-kept man. Do you NOT want them to respect you?"

Silver became silent. Reflecting on this argument, he realized that this might TRULY be the reason why Lyra– or anyone– never took him seriously. It had to be his long hair. "Hair… cuts," he said at last; "They're for the weak."

"What redundancy!"

_Really… Could my hair REALLY be the problem?_ Silver pondered to himself. "That's ridiculous," he blurted aloud; "I don't have time for such foolishness."

"It will only take a minute!"

"Fine! I have more important things to do, but go ahead and amuse yourself. And don't get me wrong, it's not like I care about how I look. Or anything!"

Sitting down, Silver scowled as the man draped a dumb-looking shampoo cape over him. It was made from a pink and blue polkadot vinyl.

Within the next minute, cold water (administered from a spray-bottle) dampened Silver's hair and the sound of crisp, metal-propelled snips filled his ears. Closing his eyes, Silver scowled with the intensity of a Snubbull– and he was violently blasted with a high-powered blow-dryer.

"There we go!" the hair-stylist cheered, setting the dryer back down on the counter. "All done! Yet another successful makeover story from the youngest haircut brother…" He quickly shoved the hand-mirror back into Silver's face. "Look at how perfectly it frames your face! How COOL you look."

For the first time in days, Silver carefully looked at himself in a proper mirror. Normally upon doing so, he would face such severe shock that he would deliberately break the mirror, but today he merely held the plastic handle and pulled the mirror to his nose. His complexion was clear, his eyes were brighter, and for some reason, he remembered the saying about how 'people that are in love are much more attractive.'

This reminder dealt Silver a whole new sense of shock. "Good… good-looks?" he stammered, finally realizing that Lyra hadn't been lying or making fun of him when she had mentioned this faculty of his (as she had put it). "She really thinks that? About this?" _This face?_ he wondered. As the concept finally dawned upon his slow head, he filled with a dreadful sense of euphoria. (It was dreadful because it was FRACTIONALLY against his will.)

At last, a true smile lifted on Silver's surly face and improved it to a divine degree. However, swarms, sudden storms, and all such freak occurrences only last a moment. "Wait a minute–" he groused, examining his hair and discovering that its length was virtually unchanged; "–All that, and you didn't do a DAMN thing. You useless twit!" He tore the shampoo cape off and threw it on the ground. "I want a refund!" He stomped on the cape.

"Wh-what? You're not HAPPY?" the haircut brother garbled in bewilderment; "But I took a full centimeter off… I did a double wizard cut… And this was a FREEBIE."

"Nothing is free! Give me back all the valuable minutes of my life you wasted–"

"–Give me back all the valuable breaths of air you wasted!"

"Tch! Forget this. I knew it was pointless, so I guess I can't complain," Silver declared, slapping the hand-mirror down on the counter and stalking away. "Thanks for NOTHING, I guess. Humph!" Swinging his arms, a microscopic trail of red hair fell behind him.

This would be the last free haircut that the youngest haircut brother would ever give.

As Silver approached the northern end of the underground path, a familiar juggler popped out from the wide doorway of the nearby photo gallery.

"That indescribable howl of outrage," the juggler described; "That far-off roar of indignation! Did I just hear Sil-burrrr?"

"Phone stalker IRWIN?" Silver blared, disturbed to find him in such an ordinary place.

"I did hear such! How glad I am to see you again!" Juggler Irwin cried; "How are you doing? Have you made any new friends yet? Have you recruited any? For the club?"

"IDIOT," Silver yelled; "I couldn't find you anywhere back at Rocket HQ– which blew up, for your information! Do you realize how upset this all made me?"

Irwin's eyes grew watery and sentimental at this. "I didn't think you'd worry about me," he explained, closing his eyes and clasping his twinkling face. "So I left to go develop the photos! They've just been finished, for your information."

"The photos?" Silver said. He coughed and crossed his arms to feign disinterest. "Of course. _Those_ photos." The ones which documented his success at (momentarily) capturing Lyra (though they went and had a big quarrel afterwards). "Where are they?" he demanded.

"They should be at the counter!" Irwin sang, "This way, my fellow club member~"

"Get it right… I'm not in your crap club!"

"Oh yes, that's right. Morty said you weren't allowed to joooin."

"I NEVER WANTED TO."

"Oh, Sil-burrr~"

"Just show me the damn photos already!"

Nearing the booth and gallery's front counter, they spied a balding man who was sweating profusely under the scorching studio lighting. Thinking that no one was watching him, the man pulled out a Team Rocket cosplay uniform and generously wiped his face with it.

"Cameron, I'm here to pick up my photos!" Irwin said, causing the man to fumble and quickly stuff away the sweat-infused clothing.

"Hold it," Silver said, noticing the uniform; "Was that a–"

"–Here's your photos," Cameron interrupted. He threw an envelop down on the counter and Irwin immediately snatched it up and began shuffling through its contents.

Silver glared at Cameron, who began wincing and sweating even more.

"Goodie, these all turned out swimmingly," Irwin said, immensely distracted by the photos; "Oh. Silver, this man here is Cameron! He trained me in the art of photography… he's a savant!"

Silver scoffed in disgust. "A SWEATY one," he denounced.

"So rude! Behave or you won't be seeing any of these!"

"Insolent juggler! Dare threaten me with MEANINGLESS photos–"

"– Eek, it's so poignant!" Irwin shrilled, yanking a photo out from the stack and holding it far away from his face, as if he couldn't bear to look at it. "Upon defeat, the young Silver cries into his arm with darkened tears of frustration," the juggler narrated; "…Or is it regret?"

"Let me see that–" Silver snapped, grabbing the picture away. To his horror, he found that the photo was, indeed, a point-blank shot of himself crying into his arm after being brutally beaten, scolded, and humiliated by Lance.

"Double points, Irwin," Cameron praised. "You've created a masterpiece… We must put it in the gallery!"

"Oh, we must!" Irwin said.

"Like HELL you will," Silver blasted. "And what is this idiocy! Look at this asinine photo!" He angrily poked its glorious and glossy surface. "How did you manage to get such a close-up shot? It's like you were RIGHT in my freakin' face!"

"Of course! That's how a Gameboy Camera works! At least… when it's not stealing your soul with frightening error messages~"

"WHAT DOES THAT _EVEN_ MEAN?"

"Look, look! I have so many cool pictures to document Lyra's legacy with," Irwin said, ignoring Silver's excellent question and spreading the photos out on the counter; "But there's still hundreds left to collect…"

Realizing that it was impossible to ever comprehend the twisted reality in which Irwin existed, Silver settled down and silently observed the photos alongside him. With blank, glassy eyes, Silver stared at a photo of Lyra indenting the ground with her face.

"You've been diligently working on that documentary, haven't you?" Cameron asked.

Irwin nodded and smiled with unexpected innocence. "I've been writing it nonstop~"

"Hey," Silver spoke up; "If you have that much time on your hands, you should also be documenting MY great legacy."

"Of course, buddy! You'll be in the footnotes of Lyra's!"

Though Silver had a great, violent comeback to twist out of Irwin's remark, he withheld it in favor of snatching up one of the photos– the one he had been looking for.

"I'm taking this one," Silver said. "And you won't be exhibiting ANY photos with me in them in. I don't even need to explain what will happen if you do… Do I make myself clear?" Facing Irwin, he discovered that the juggler was no longer there.

This was because the juggler was now peering over Silver's shoulder.

"The moment of truth! Silver and Lyra share an emotional embrace," Irwin described. "To take further advantage of Lyra, Silver will SURELY keep following her."

"Stop captioning all of my photos," Silver yelled. "It's annoying!" _And just who's taking advantage of WHO?_ he added mentally. _Paparazzi scum!_

Cameron, gazing at Silver worriedly, finally decided to propound his thoughts aloud: "Boy... Be good to that girl," he said suddenly. "Since I knew Lyra's father, I feel the need to tell you as much… Yes, if he were still alive today, he'd be very protective of her in this situation."

"Huh?" Irwin chirped. "You knew her father? Why, you never told me…!"

Averting his gaze, Silver stared down at the ground. "…Whatever," he said. "If her old man has any issues with me, he can get in line and curse me."

That line must've been VERY short– for within the next half moment, an enormous explosion erupted from far off and rattled the underground path– causing everyone to scream and scamper about in surprise.

"NOT AGAIN–" Silver yelled, ducking and covering his head; "–Make it stop!" By now, he already knew the drill for random explosions, and was in fact traumatized by their regular occurrence.

"What was THAT?…" Cameron gasped, gripping the edge of the counter and bracing himself even after the tremors subsided.

Green, monster-like legs and a tail stomped down the nearby stairs, revealing the frazzled form of a cosplaying Pokemaniac. "There's been a massive explosion!" the man shouted, raising his fake claws and earning gasps from all those who heard; "At the NATIONAL PARK."

* * *

**And now... for a totally awesome reader-submitted OFFICIAL ARTING (with Morty drawing on Silver's face):  
**

**earlgengar.*deviantart.*com/gallery/#/d4tsqmm**

***Remove the asterisks, guise. They're these star symbol things*  
**

**Sorry for the THREE MONTH wait... Someone important to me passed away, so I've been unable to read and write much. But it's my birthday tomorrow, so I give you all this chapter as a gift– 'cause that's how I roll dood.  
**


	47. Grasping Her True Form

"There's been a massive explosion?" Irwin repeated; "At the National Park?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," the Pokemaniac replied. "There was fire spewing everywhere. In all directions!"

Silver– knowing EXACTLY what this meant– jumped up and ran for the nearby stairs.

Except in very rare cases, large explosions were more than usually caused by the raw carelessness, total disregard for property, or burning intensity of Lyra and Typhlosion. (And sometimes all aforementioned.) It was an unspoken truth. An escapable law revealed by nature (and by Irwin's disturbing photographs). With this in mind, Silver ran all the way to park and found it cloaked in a expanding cloud of ash and smoke.

Choking for air, Silver held his forehead in distress. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?" he screamed into the hellishly humid air. The grand fountain– which was once in the proud center of the park– was now a steaming crater of oozing mud and rubble.

Hearing Silver, a tall spindly shadow, which appeared to be a natural denizen of the apocalyptic scenery, emerged from the billowing smoke and slowly revealed itself to have a man's form.

"What happened here, huh?" the man's voice said; "That girl sang that AQUA*MARINA song 'Burn Up Miracle Warrior!' terribly, overloading Typhlosion's fighting spirit, causing him to critical hit, blowing up everything, confusing the enemy fleet, and simultaneously winning the war."

"What?"

"… It also caused AQUA*MARINA herself to chase after the girl with a trash can… Then the cops arrived and everybody ran off. Somehow, the boy escaped death unscathed. You might think this all sounds very uneventful but… it was interesting to watch."

"Who… who are you?" Silver managed out in half fascination, half terror. _This weirdo mentioned a Typhlosion…_ _And girls?_ the boy thought._ Was one of them Lyra?_

"Hn. One of them was her."

Finally recognizing the man in the clearing smoke, Silver choked and stepped back. "Creepy idiot gym leader?" he yelled and pointed, surprised to find Morty in such an appropriate place.

"What a shame, shrimp. It's so sad that you can't recognize my fine, velvety voice... instantaneously."

"Humph. Full of yourself as always, I see."

"And you don't seem to be as full of yourself as you normally do… Could it be that you've sensed a split in your destiny? A forked path? ...An option box with a movable arrow cursor?"

"Our national language... do you speak it?"

"Hoh. I just heard that one from Irwin and thought it sounded cool, I also don't know what it means," Morty admitted. "Anyhow… I've come to deliver a prophecy: You might not make the right selection, but to bring down your enemy… you will have to work with the tall woman."

Silver began to grind his teeth at this. _Tall… woman?_ he thought, knowing that this specifically had to be Clair– the woman who had previously BLASTED him UNCONSCIOUS.

Morty, throwing his arms out wide, covered the ground with a freakishly large shadow and (right when Silver saw it giving a jagged grin) summoned a freezing draft which exploded out and cleared the smoky air. Though Silver was glad to be rid of the haze and smoke, he was frozen solid by the demonically chill wind and his latent fear. And though he wished to ask Morty what _that_ just was, or what he was even doing here, Silver already knew that he'd only get an dumb answer conceived by asinine demon logic.

"Oi. I wanted to tell you something," Morty said, closing his sleepy eyes and nodding. "I just visited Lyra-Mama… to piece together something of a mystery."

This immediately got Silver's attention. "Lyra-Mama?" he answered.

"Yeah, Lyra-Mama. Lyra's Mom, AKA the first edition Lyra." Why Morty was expounding on this point was unknown, but the man continued: "I visit Lyra-Mama every now and then… because she gets lonely and makes desserts… and she's single." He likely added the last part just to be upsetting.

_How displeased Lyra would be, _Silver thought with intense repugnance; _to HEAR this AWFUL news._

"Listen up, shrimp… And stop fussing over unimportant matters," Morty said. "You and Lyra's past intertwine in a dangerous way… And that girl… her story is still half untold."

Unsure of what this unclear information meant, Silver's eyes drifted down (and not apart!) in distraction. "Huh? What the crap does that mean?" _What story? _he wondered; _Lyra's story? _Glancing up, he blinked when he saw that the Morty was no longer standing there.

Instead, Morty was holding onto a Driftblim and slowly floating away into the sky.

"HEY–" Silver yelled, highly insulted by this; "Don't just FLY away in the MIDDLE of a CONVERSATION. It's RUDE."

Morty's voice, detached as usual, drifted down with the lazy breeze. "Oi, what a bossy shrimp… He's certainly one to give critiques in etiquette."

"…" Bending over, Silver picked up a rock and chucked it at the man, missing by a large margin.

Morty laughed amusedly at this. "Silver used Rock Throw! But it missed… snrk~"

"ERAGHH–" Silver swung his fists. "GET BACK HERE YOU ASSHOLE–"

But that was all the prophecy that Morty had for delivery that day. He drifted higher into the sky, safely out of reach. "Shrimp! Go visit Lyra-Mama if you're curious," he called back; "You should ask her… about Lyra's fear of the police… and the incredible thing that happened after her detainment… She…" Lowering his voice to complete silence, Morty moved his mouth in the pretense of continued speech.

"Damn," Silver muttered, shielding his eyes and watching the sky. "I guess he's too far away now. I can't hear any of what that bastard is saying…" Standing there for a good five minutes, he watched Morty's receding form in silence and dejection.

A crisp leaf fluttered by. Then a gob of burnt weeds.

Hunching over, Silver gave a restrained huff of unhappiness. _Go visit Lyra's mom again, huh?_ he thought, recalling his encounter with her before. After that last awkward visit he had resolved to never willingly go back there EVER AGAIN. Besides, he was certain that Lyra had since informed the woman of his status as a thieving 'Jerkface'. There'd was no way she would still accept him.

"Not that I care…" Silver said to himself, thrusting his knuckles into his jacket pockets and pouting. That's right, he didn't care at all– despite the fact that he looked about as bothered as a brat who got lost in a department store. Appropriately, his moment of self-pity did not last long– for at the worst time possible– the police arrived. This was due to 1) the crime already being done and 2) the perpetrators being long gone. And also because Silver was there. (3)

Needless to say, the Goldenrod police force was a well-oiled machine run by an arsenal of clockwork protocol, brutal efficiency, an eagerness to serve, and a fanatical devotion to cop TV.

Silver spun around when he heard the thumping footsteps behind him.

"Stop–" a policeman shouted; "Put your hands up and where we can see them." His fellow officers, in their blue uniform pants, noisily shuffled in around him. No doubt they wanted to parade their presence since they rarely had the chance (given how disappointingly peaceful the city was and how weak they were in the face of actual crime).

"Tch! Not this again," Silver said to himself. "You weaklings can't blame me for everything." With his left hand in his pocket, he uncurled his fingers and latched onto a pokeball. He wasn't about to go and get arrested now.

The front policeman scowled at this sign of resistance. "Take your hands out of your pockets, boy. Slowly!"

Doing as he was told, Silver dropped the pokeball out, caught it with the toe of his boot, and punted it skyward– releasing his Golbat in the process.

"Fly me outta here–" Silver yelled at the sky, stepping back; "–And as far away as possible!"

As Golbat swooped down, Silver latched onto his foot with one hand, caught his falling pokeball with the other, and soared over the treetops before the policemen could breathe. Way up high, the ocean breeze was cool and penetrating, and the rushing wind was deeply refreshing. Though bird pokemon shared the skies, Morty was nowhere to be seen, which was mildly disappointing to Silver.

"Attatat–" Golbat trilled, flapping strongly. Though he was slightly taller than Silver, and slightly less purple, he could easily carry both their weight– even if that correlation was entirely irrelevant.

"I hate to admit it… but I'm impressed," Silver said in relief, easing up on his constant frown. This caused Golbat to blush furiously and flap with with an angry (but also secretively happy) attitude. It also began a restless bout of awkward silence between the two. (Though this sort of thing was bound to happen between two guys with fluctuating hot and cold personalities.)

When they passed Sprout Tower, however, Silver grew restless and eager to complain. "Hold on…" he said; "Where are you even going? …You'd better not be taking me to New Bark Town."

Sweat beaded down the side of Golbat's mouth of a face. That was exactly where he was going.

Silver understood immediately. He knew because he saw Route 30 and Youngster Joey far beneath his feet.

"You idiot!" Silver yelled into the heavens; "Of all places to take me!"

They were in New Bark Town instantly, and when they landed, Silver sternly called Golbat back into his pokeball and stomped into the trees. Once there, he floundered about in panic. Lyra's house was exactly twenty-five paces in front of him.

"This is so stupid!" Silver whispered, holding his head to hold back his bubbling rage. No way was he going to see Lyra's mother now, even if he WAS already here! It was such a bad idea. Why did Morty even suggest it? _Humph! When it comes down to it, I don't trust him and his idiot predictions,_ Silver thought finally. _But… when has he ever been wrong?_

Without sparing another moment for thought, a heavy rattle rang out and popped Silver's ears with its deafening volume. With the tree branches above him splintering and groaning, he flattened against the ground in trained defense.

_Rapid gunfire?_ Silver thought, noticing how the rounds had come from across the street. From Lyra's house. "What the actual–"

One final volley punctured the tree trunk above him and he was up and running before he even made sense of it. _Impossible! Is Team Rocket going after Lyra? _ he thought, knowing that the organization hadn't used guns since the legendary gang wars almost twenty years ago. Rocket launchers, hand grenades, mines, and other such explosives were now more their style since they were relatively easier to obtain since the gun ban– but still, what other explanation was there?

Zigzagging toward the house, Silver ran up to its front door and kicked it in, bracing himself as the hole-ridden door toppled over in a puff of dust.

Lyra's mom, with eyes wide in bewilderment, sat at the kitchen table before him with a dust-rag in one hand and a long box in the other.

"There was… a noise," Silver said, suddenly feeling really dumb. The only noise now was the racket caused by him breaking into Lyra's house. AGAIN.

Lyra's mom, now composed, eyed her fallen front door. "Oh my," she said, holding her rag to her mouth with familiar mischievousness. "Pay me for the door repair charge."

Silver stared steadily at the door in stunned silence. He had knocked it clean off its hinges, true, but it had obviously been weakened by the gunfire first. Also, he knew that doors were crazy expensive and were one pokedollar over the maximum amount his trainer card could carry.

The woman, amused by his reluctance, threw back her head and laughed joyfully. "Just kidding. I always wanted to say that," she said, setting her dust rag and box on the table before standing up. "I made quite a mess. I was cleaning my instrument and forgot it was in 'fire mode.' I pretty much obliterated my own door before you even got to it."

"Instrument?" Silver said, unsure of what she was even talking about. He didn't see a tuba or a machine gun anywhere.

"Yes, this right here." She took and held up the rectangular box, revealing that it was similar to an electric keyboard but with old-fashioned typewriter keys in place of piano keys. "It's an electric taisho koto. Entirely custom– it has a built-in amp, full effects unit, mode memory, styler, and everything. I used it all the time when I was younger. Playing songs… shooting out a tune."

Silver flattened back a scowl. "You mentioned a 'fire mode'."

"Oh, yes. I could've sworn that I took out the ammunition when I last stored it. I was just cleaning it today because I was thinking about how we… I always wanted Lyra to become a musician… even though she never had much patience for such things. When she comes home, she's getting this and she's finally going to learn how to play it_._"

Silver couldn't protest this ridiculous idea enough. The last thing Lyra needed to do was learn how to play a silly instrument– especially one that doubled as an illegal automatic weapon. "You realize that Lyra's in enough trouble with the police, right? For constantly blowing stuff up."

"Oh. Well that does run in the family."

_What does? Criminal activity?_ Silver thought; _This is terrible… Why do I suddenly feel better?_

Picking up her dust rag, the woman grinned and resumed shining her electric koto. "My daughter might not have much musical talent," she said, "but I must admit, she's talented at bringing home the cuties. These day I'm never lonely. Oh, would you like some tea?"

"That's–"

"–Of course you would. Be a doll and lean the door back up against its frame, would you?" She walked into the kitchen and flung open a cupboard, leaving Silver to morosely obey her selfish wishes. Within minutes, she had him sitting at the table with her, sipping tea (and consequently having an existential crisis).

_Who am I and what am I even doing here?_ Silver wondered, suddenly lost in the supreme nonsense that was tea time with Lyra-Mama. It was just like him to wander into the same hopeless situation TWICE and still not be prepared. He couldn't help but feel cranky and discontent.

"What's wrong, Dollface?" The mother fussed. "Is your tea too bitter?"

_D… DOLLFACE?_ Silver thought, filled with horror and shock. He could handle being called a Jerkface, since it was oftentimes appropriate, but this other pet name was not working for obvious reasons. "NO. I like my tea bitter," he snapped. "I don't like sweet things! Don't call me that!" He instantly regretted his childish outburst as soon as it was let out.

Lyra's mother, though, was surprisingly understanding. "Oh, that's right," she said. "Lyra calls you, uh… Jerkface, doesn't she? My apologies, I get easily confused– especially since you're so darn adorable! Why, I'd love to have such a cute son, even if he really was a **thief** with a **temperamental** personality."

The words 'thief' and 'temperamental' shot through Silver like giant crossbow arrows. _She knows…_ He quaked at the thought; _She knows everything!_ Avoiding eye contact with her, he set down his tea and stared into its jade, steaming brew.

"Lyra," Silver began, suddenly feeling nervous with the familiar name, "is something of a thief herself… The worst kind. Did you know that?" As he spoke, he felt at the stolen white cape in his pocket.

The Super Jump Girl cape. Lyra loved that dumb rag– which was why Silver took it. Secretly, he wished it would act like a magnet, drawing her to him. Unhealthily, he also wanted it to attract her undying rage. Then they could BOTH be passionately frustrated. _Together._

"Lyra? A thief?" Her mother almost seemed genuinely astonished. "Why do you say that? Did my daughter happen to steal something from you?"

_Where do I begin?_ Silver thought; _I could start at… my time; she wastes all of it. My mind; she's constantly on it. My first kiss–which she doesn't even remember, and then my… _"My remaining sanity," he said aloud. Anything to keep from admitting the last part.

Though Lyra paraded around as a goody-goody warrior of justice, she was definitely part evil. Not that Silver could blame her, he had equal run-ins with the law, too. As Lyra's mother giggled maliciously at Silver's response, he considered that the woman was just plain evil. '_You should ask her… about Lyra's fear of the police…' _Morty's last words resounded in Silver's mind.

_If ONLY those were his LAST words,_ Silver thought.

"You ok, Jerkypie?" the woman asked, coming up with a new term of demeaning endearment for him– even though she was quite worried by the homicidal expression on his face.

Silver ignored her in favor of digging right into the topic. "Why is she so scared of them?" he asked at last. "Lyra… She completely freaks out when she sees the police. What's with that?"

The girl's mother sank into her chair– the color and perkiness in her face dragging down and fading away with just a few breaths. Tightly, she grasped her tea cup, as if trying to absorb its rapidly diminishing heat. There was something horribly wrong with his question– and for a moment, Silver regretted asking it, even though his interest was now fully piqued.

"I," the woman began, gulping nervously, "I had a dream about that this afternoon. So odd. I fell asleep when a guest was here. How funny is that? I don't know what came over me, but that's one thing…"

_Morty,_ Silver thought agitatedly. _Feeding on people's dreams again…_

Putting down her tea cup, the mother stood up and wobbled away. "It's connected with the accident," she said, not wanting to speak directly to Silver. "Even though my daughter forgave me– I did something unforgivable." Her voice wavered– almost rising to a wail. It was saturated with so much guilt and shame.

Silver was terrified by the change in her bubbling mood but pressed her further. "This was when… the train wreck happened?" he asked uncertainly. Even if he made her cry, he had to know what this nonsense was all about.

"Yes. What I'm about to tell you… leads up to that reason."

* * *

Standing in the middle of Ilex Forest, Lyra slung the mossy mud from her face and hands. "I think we're done here, Kneebiter," she said to her Sunkern, the both of them nearly out of breath. "It's time to complete your training." Rummaging through her bag, she brought out the ruddy Sunstone and held it before her. "You ready?"

With a determined face and twinkling eyes, Kneebiter nodded, and Lyra placed the evolutionary stone down before her, engulfing her in a brilliant glow of light. Flickering between her seed form and new form, Sunkern grew and expanded, growing and blooming into a tall flower with a proud face.

"You did it," Lyra breathed, giving Kneebiter a thumbs up. "Combined with the new technique Typhlosion learned, you'll be an unstoppable force of nature."

As the last sliver of sun sank completely behind the mountains in the distance, the thick confines of Ilex Forest became noticeably darker. Kneebiter, responding to the night, folded up her pedals and became very still.

"Ah, I guess it is late," Lyra said, adjusting her eyes to the low light. "But I don't feel tired at all… Maybe you need some overpriced coffee?"

Kneebiter opened up and swayed excitedly at the prospect, following closely behind the girl.

"You like the good stuff, huh," Lyra said; "You definitely have the spirit of a burnt bean connoisseur." Passing by the little wooden forest shrine, she stopped and stared at it.

Those memories. Though they were from so long ago, they remained vivid and bitterly sweet. The elation Lyra felt– back when she'd run out the hospital doors to go and play. Getting lost in the forest all day, everyday. Even if there was no one there for her anymore, the guardian of the forest was surely watching over her. And when she was detained by the police at the end… the jail door opened and the entire station had emptied. The streets were bare and the night was silent. Everything was so still. A spell had been casted over Goldenrod.

Lyra left the forest, wondering whether that peculiar memory was really a dream or the truth. If she ever met the guardian one day, she'd have a lot to ask.

* * *

**What's with all this story stuff? When are people gonna start making-out?...**

**Thanks to all you people out there reading and enjoying this. I'll keep working.**

* * *

_"Burn up miracle warrior,_

s_end your sparks down on me–  
they're fly~ing!_

_Dream up feral berserker!_  
_Blasting our enemies–_

_forever!_

_Go go miracle warrior–_  
_it's a thing of beauty!_  
_It's blind~ing!"_

_"ERAGH, YOU'RE SINGING IT ALL WRONG."_


	48. On the Next Episode OF

Once again, Lyra's mother sat down, readjusting her tea cup on the table and fidgeting in her seat. Silver wanted to urge her into explaining everything– about the unforgivable thing she had done to Lyra– but he managed to have enough tact to wait.

In this forced, prolonged silence, Silver finally remembered the words that Morty had said to him over a week ago– the secrets about Lyra's past: _"But it didn't stop there. Subsequent to her hospital release, it seems her father's company threw her into questioning and documentation. A sort of confined jail. And her mother... Well. I think I'll stop there for now_."

"Hold it," Silver said aloud, clasping his dense head in a delayed epiphany; "So THAT ordeal gave Lyra some kind of policeaphobia?"_ That's insane! _he thought;_ Why didn't I realize it sooner?_

Lyra-Mama's right eye twitched in exasperation. "Hold your BUTT," she snapped; "I didn't even say anything yet! Stop getting all enlightened! And it's not policeaphobia, it's astynomiaphobia." Everyday there was something new to learn.

Taken aback by the woman's outburst, Silver quickly composed himself. "Humph. I already know a lot about Lyra, so don't act so surprised."

"You do, huh? Then why you here asking me about her?"

"That's…" _An entirely good point,_ Silver thought. _When it concerns Lyra, I go freakin' stupid…_

Closing her eyes, Lyra-mama nodded her head understandingly. "I know, I know. You're one of those guys who tends to get ahead of himself. Picks out a girl before she even likes him. Bullies her for attention. Follows her. Steals her stuff."

"T-th–" With a reddening face, Silver chocked on NOTHING and coughed wildly. Before he could even explain himself, the woman leaned over the table and placed a gentle hand on his head.

"It's ok," she told him. "Love is when you want to be close to a person– in every way possible. For you to be close to that person, you have to understand everything about them. You'll naturally be drawn to know more. So. it's time… I stop bottling this up about Lyra and me. I need to tell someone, so it might as well be you." She pulled her hands into her lap and stared down at them. "The unforgivable thing I did to Lyra is… I failed her as a parent. When her father died, I abandoned her like a coward. When she was scared, she was all alone. I left her out to rise and she hardened into an unrecognizable rock of regrets." No doubt she was comparing her daughter to a past baking experience.

Gulping steadily, Silver sourly remembered his first personal conversation with Lyra.

"_Saying all these weird things to me, and so casually, too!"_ he had accused her;_ "You… You live such an easy life where everything is handed to you... You have NO IDEA what it's like to scrape by, to fight for yourself after someone leaves you behind. I had to steal Totodile– it's the only way– because without Totodile, I'm..." _His words had evaporated into the surrounding silence, combining with the whistling afternoon breeze.

_"... all alone," _Lyra had said, continuing his words_; "And trying to be strong…"_

"It was– a total disaster," Lyra-Mama began quietly. "When it happened, the train track's crumpled, smoldering imagery was all over the news. Seven hours in, and only remains were found; no survivors. I woke up to that… It was early morning, and cold, so I– turned off the TV. And the radio. I took the phone apart. And then I went back to bed." She rubbed her arms, as if the coldness from that morning was still touching her.

"You went back to bed," Silver repeated, trying to make sense of this. _Went back to bed?_ he repeated in his mind._ What the… _

"I wanted to wake up– and for them to be there. Lyra and my husband– my family. But they didn't come home. I kept waking up, going back to bed, waiting, thinking foolish thoughts, and hoping it all wasn't real. Over and over, holing myself up here. Shady people and reporters arrived in droves, knocking and making demands, so one night, I snuck away to Tohjo Falls." She stopped and breathed. Squeezing her arms tightly, she continued lowly: "And I hid there for two months. Two whole months, while Lyra… took the heat that I ran away from. Waiting for me in custody. Being hurt by strangers–" Though the woman had managed to hold herself fairly well, she gasped and let loose a miserable sob– and then a drizzle of tears and possibly snot. Shielding her face she trembled ashamedly, possibly due to all the gruesome things coming out of her. "And more than anything, she was hurt by me. At such a time, I abandoned her. To accept the weight of the world on her own. For children, such feelings– no matter how far one runs– can never be left behind. That child will spend the rest of her life running."

_Those feelings…_ Silver thought he left his own on that green island in his memories. But those feelings always took a new form whenever possible. When his mom left him– and then his father– he thought he understood it at last. It was foolish to look up to anyone– to rely on somebody, or anything, so childishly. _The only one you can rely on is yourself_. He thought he knew this. _But… I'm not so strong. So I'm always reaching out while simultaneously pushing away. I make myself hate everything I love. I'm a confused mess, and a Jerkface… Lyra. How can I look after you when I can't even look after myself?_

Wiping her face on her apron, Lyra-Mama took a sip of tea and once again managed to reassume her facade of calmness. "Though I hid in some little cave, Lyra's aunt found me," she admitted. "She beat some long-needed sense into me and told me Lyra was still alive, in trouble and waiting for me. So I did the long-awaited and we went and made a big scene– turned the Goldenrod Police Department upside down. But my little girl beat me to it. She'd escaped the day before. And what did they, the mighty police, have to say for it?" Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and let out an exasperated huff. "One officer said she had done a jailbreak, another said an unknown sympathizer let her out… And so the next few hours spent looking for her felt like days. But of course Lyra was all right. Ethan's grandparents called eventually– told me he'd found her in Ilex forest the night before. She was safe and sound right outside of town the whole damn time…"

Breathing sharply, Silver willfully ignored all mention of Lyra's Important Childhood Friend, Ethan™, and crossed his arms firmly. "So," Silver began, repetitively thumping the floor with his heel. "How DID Lyra escape? You asked her about it later, didn't you?"

"Yes. But. About her escape. She'd only tell me strange and senseless things… Like that she bit off her big toe nail and picked the lock with it. Or that she summoned her spirit pokemon and exploded the bars. Or that she burned her cosmos and did a hundred headbutts per second."

_Wait, how would headbutts help?_ Silver wondered ponderously.

"Or that she saved up all the shiokara paste from her meals and painted herself with it in order to blend into the dirty cell walls," Lyra-mama continued, "kinda like that one movie with the little autistic girl–"

"–OK, I don't want to hear any more about THAT," Silver cut her off. These stories were getting senselessly stranger and increasingly disturbing with each procession.

Lyra-mama shook her head. "Fine. I don't know," she said. "But about a year ago, Lyra told me a new story. That someone had stopped time itself and unlocked everything for her to escape. She sounded serious for once… It sounded like the work of the forest's protector. The protector… As mystifying as it sounds, it's probably just a pokemon, right?"

Silver stopped his boot mid-thump. Where had he heard about this 'protector' before? _The shrine in the middle of Ilex forest, _he contemplated, his awareness dimming as he recalled the beginning of him and his rival's history.

In the green, diffused light of Ilex forest, he remembered Lyra's crouching back– her knees pulled close to her chest and her head hunched over. Rocking back and forth on her heels– and swinging like a soulless tree branch in the breeze– she spoke at last: _"...I figured you'd get arrested."_

_"I don't need your help." _Lashing out at her and constantly misunderstanding her; this habit of his was still the same. "_How did you get me here?"_

_"I carried you. Don't worry, I was careful."_

Standing there, Silver waited for her to turn around and say something else– to look his way and uplift the mood. But she just kept walking away– disappearing into a fold of trees and the gap between their merging shade.

_Why did she look so sad? _

_Now I know. It was… her memories from then._

Snapping from his recollection, Silver became aware of the audible breeze blowing in from the hole-riddled door of the Lyra household– or whatever the hell it was called. Of all the things he knew, he still didn't know her last name. "The shady people you were talking about before," he spoke up. "They made the police confine Lyra to shake you out, right? It's hard to understand. Why did they do such a dirty thing?"

"It's because–" Lyra-mama stopped and deliberated. "My husband and I, only through our combined connections did the Magnet Train Project gain enough support. That is, financial support," she said; "Our connections included not only our combined criminal families, but also a prominent Kanto-based racketeering group. This group was our main source of funds… and this group was not pleased when their investment turned scandal and failed. They wanted us to pay in blood. That's how the underworld works."

Silver understood what this meant but didn't want to. It couldn't be. It was too much of a horrible coincidence. But Kanto had always been Team Rocket's territory– they never allowed any other criminal clans or organizations to root themselves there– they crushed or assimilated all rivals. They were that group. All along, Team Rocket had been the main backer for the Magnet Train project.

"You mean," he gulped, his voice falling down his throat; "Those racketeers, that large crime group, went after you two personally?"

"Hm!" she laughed sharply. "Thanks to Champion Red, that group was significantly weakened. But when I couldn't be reached, they somehow managed to pressure the already-corrupt Goldenrod Police into confining Lyra. Legal kidnapping. But when I failed to show up– and was unavailable for contact– they went so far as to interrogate her for my whereabouts. They were so desperate, they interrogated a little girl!"

_Is this somehow… my fault? _Silver contemplated, wondering if he could blame himself for any particular thing. Even though he was ever more of a useless and ignorant brat back then, he still felt responsible somehow. _Damn it… Why are we connected in this horrible way? If only I could take the knowledge I had now– and my memories of her– back through time and change everything._

"The Goldenrod Police, they kept Lyra's detainment off-record. Because of this, I was unable to ever find out exactly what they did to her," Lyra-mama said, her voice trembling with a hint of murderous rage. "I can only guess. Because Lyra won't ever tell me about that, either. She just says, 'They smacked me around and wouldn't let me use the toilet. They asked me where I hid the bodies.' She writes it off as a big joke. She doesn't want me to worry about it… She doesn't want to ever trust me as her mother again…"

And upon saying this, Lyra-mama curled up into a withered husk of a woman and emitted blue fungal spores– the kind caused by the natural decomposition present during intense depression.

Clenching the edge of the table, Silver fumed in his own kind of festering emotions_. IDIOT, _he internally cursed at Lyra;_ Refusing to tell anyone… that's even more worrying!_

Curiously watching the boy stew in resentment, Lyra-Mama poured more tea; she had somehow gulped it all down in her own emotional moments. "It's fine, it's fine," she reassured him. "Her rebelliousness is payback for my failure. Because I damaged her. Children are like that… Easily damaged by their parents. Maybe you can understand… Please take care of my daughter."

As if listening in on their conversation, the pokegear in Lyra-mama's apron pocket chirped. Fishing it out, she searched its screen for meaning. "Incoming money transfer," she read aloud. "From Lyra in Goldenrod. Sent five minutes ago."

Quickly glancing down at his untouched tea, still quite taken aback by their conversation, Silver took a long sip and stood up. "I see. Then I'm leaving," he announced; "Since I've got important work to do." Hurrying and facing the disheveled door, he paused awkwardly. He had forgotten all about kicking it in earlier. "I'm sorry about your door…"

"It's fine," Lyra-mama said. "Forget about it. It was all my fault."

"It wasn't all your fault…" Dragging the unhinged door open, and propping it back up, Silver left the same way he had arrived. "Later," his voice drifted back.

* * *

Clinging to her hat, and Aerodactyl's tough back, Lyra hurtled through the endless night sky tucked between his sail-like wings– the both of them chilled and kept alert by the battering wind.

"It's a long flight back to Mahogany Town, huh?" Lyra asked, closing her eyes and imagining that they were lost, upside down, and swinging by a fishing line through the endless sky.

When Aerodactyl only snorted in response, Lyra drifted back to the memory which had re-surfaced earlier during their training run through Ilex Forest– to the memory of that vacant police department and the empty streets of Goldenrod three years before.

On that mysterious night long ago, all the doors had opened and all the neon city lights had dimmed. The dirt road to the forest, glowing, almost encouraged her to run for it.

It was if the night itself had held its breath for that one moment.

For Lyra, after weeks of an unwanted existence– of recoiling in fear, of wondering the meaning of loneliness and death– or of being thrown into a room where angry voices slammed her head against a table– she had been freed.

_Escaping into the forest, and losing myself in the night, _she remembered it all nostalgically;_ Protected by the unbeatable darkness, I fell asleep underneath the forest's shrine, and when I woke up… I was swimming in hotel blankets and my mother's back was there. Somehow, it felt as if I had just been born. _

Lyra clung to Aerodactyl even tighter. Though those days with her mother had been difficult– and they spent months away from home trying to escape the accident– those days together had become irreplaceable, bittersweet memories.

Opening her eyes, and taking in the inland scenery, Lyra witnessed the dark blue coastal fog dissipating all around and the moon breaking free to cast a spotlight on the land below. Mahogany Town– with its little lights flickering from its lookout towers– emerged in sight and the Lake of Rage– a big silver platter– shone far beyond like a brilliant mirage.

Lyra took in everything with her wind-blasted eyes. _At night, everything that catches moonlight shines silver… _

_That guy. What is he doing now?_

And how many times had he shown her a kindness only she knew of, with that begrudging attitude and snappish manner of his? For some ridiculous reason, she loved it.

_Silver. He's difficult to get along with, but I'm always awaiting the next time I see him. It's like he's always around the corner– and it makes me a little bit nervous. My heart pounds and I can't tell if its fear or a strange affection. But I'm sure… It's both! _Lyra laughed at how absurd it was, her voice disappearing into the stabs of cold air.

_He always seems to be searching for something, huh? _She felt it was presumptuous to think it was her– and she had a feeling it had something to do with Team Rocket– so it was bound to be something interesting. _A past vendetta? I hope he finds it. _

_I hope I see him again._

Chilly air blasted up at her, making her flinch and momentarily wish she had something warm around her. Peeking over her shoulder, she leaned forward as soon as her center of balance dropped.

"Tchaaa," Aerodactyl trilled, informing her they were landing at their destination.

"Time to jump," Lyra huffed, vaulting off the side with arms open wide. Walloping the ground and pulling Aerodactyl back into his pokeball, she ran all the way to the gym where a death trap of a floor awaited.

Gliding across the ice on her belly, Lyra– who had covered herself in bruises from slipping and falling down on the gym's glassy floors– flew along uncontrollably for the umpteenth time and slammed head-first into a wall. Fortunately, her enormously puffy hat shielded her brain from further damage.

"Nature, it is so… It is so awesomely cold," she said dimly, curling up on the gleaming ice and floating sideways– like a faded autumn leaf adrift on a shallow winter stream. "And unforgiving…"

In her final silence, the floor cooling units hummed distractingly in the distance like a thousand refrigerators (which they basically were) and no one recorded her crappy death haiku.

"WOOOT~ CHECK OUT MY PARALLEL TURN," a skier yelled, zooming past and tearing up ice.

A tidy little pile of snow landed on Lyra's back and she revived, coughing and hacking up ice particles. "Geh… This must be one of those gyms that employ lateral thinking puzzles," she thought to herself aloud, holding her chin and kneeling on the ice floor for support. "Yes, because otherwise, this floor is COMPLETELY untraversable for trainers who weren't born Skiers or Boarders… I wonder. What would a Firebreather do? Or a Swimmer? Ah…"

_Of course. __**THAT**__, _Lyra thought, an eldritch idea forming in her mind. Getting down on all fours, and wriggling her butt in the air, she roared and the pounced the skier mid-parallel turn.

"-Uwa- AWAGGH–" the skier screamed, struggling and flopping against the ice as Lyra tore at her skis, yanking them away without any explanation or mercy.

Standing up, Lyra piled the skis beside a boulder on the ice and pulled out her favorite brand of hard liquor. "Burn up the floor burnin' the floor we're BURNING THE FLOOR," she yowled, sprinkling the alcohol with an inhumane sort of eagerness. When a nearby Boarder came riding in to stop her, she headbutted him in the stomach, stole his snowboard, and added it to her kindling. "Good, it is ready," she muttered, searching her hip for either a match or Typhlosion's pokeball.

"Sa-staahp her!"

"My board!" the Boarder cried piteously.

Instantaneously, all the gym trainers (puffer jacketed Boarders and Skiers alike) gathered and screamed mightily, tackling Lyra to the floor with great effort and pile-driving across the ice as one intertwined lump of bodies. Crash landing on a distant bank, a chorus of groans and wails erupted.

"This is insane, I can't take this anymore," the first Boarder complained, squashed near the bottom of the pile and nearly in tears; "I'm going back to Sinnoh to work at my family's noodle house!"

"Fine, leave!" a Skier answered bitterly. "Do it already."

"Go back to your PRECIOUS noodle house," another egged on. They were apparently well accustomed to his idle threat of returning to his original destiny.

"N-noodles," Lyra said, the source of her voice hidden beneath the group pile. "Red sauce…"

"I'm going home."

"Ye-aaaah."

One by one, the Boarders and Skiers left and Lyra stood up, dusting ice off her overalls and staring dead ahed. A frosty breeze shook her pigtails and a mysterious figure emerged from the cold fog.

"Are you… Leader Pryce?" Lyra asked uncertainly, cautiously walking nearer. "The man who was fictionally defamed by Team Rocket's explosive comic books?"

"ARGHHH," the old man howled, "Team Rocket and their evil doujinshi ring– I'll never forgive them for the pain and suffering they've caused me!"

"Sir, I know the name of the man who defamed you," Lyra said, kneeling solemnly like a knight. "His name is Executive Petrel. He claims to be a great artist but he actually traces poses from copyrighted photos. I unscrewed the lightbulb in his light box so he may never do evil again."

"You idiot! You should've smashed it!"

"Oh, but you see." Lyra held out her hands. "Since he knows it only needs to be screwed back in, he'll never buy another one. And since he's a procrastinator, he'll never screw it back in."

"Ah… I see…" Pryces nodded his head sagely. "Genius."

Taking a moment to dig through her bag and put on her cape, Lyra did her best imitation of Lancer Dragoon and threw out its length. "Hmph!" It flapped in the indoor breeze. "I've waited for this day for so long. Old man, I've taken care of Team Rocket with my swift hand of anti-art-theft, so battle me now!"

Taking two steps to the left, just to line up with the Gym's cooling vents, Pryce smirked, a majestic breeze fluttering his scarf impressively. "I, Pryce – the Winter Trainer – shall grant your request then. Let me demonstrate my true power!"

"Ahh!" Lyra gasped in awe, watching him intensely. "Incredible… but you've just made one fatal mistake," she said, taking two steps to the left as well. "My eyes happen to have the unique ability to see you and now– I've memorized your secret technique. To use against you! Defeat is imminent!"

"Yes! YOURS. Come at me, child!"

"Hraggh!" Lyra threw back her cape, its form billowing even more impressively than before.

"Hmm, I'm stunned by your ability to keep up with my pace," Pryce admitted. "But seriously, we should probably battle for real now."

"Aw, yeah… Ok."

"Seel, I choose you–"

"–Typhlosion, go!"

Throwing down their pokeballs, their warriors exploded onto the field and a fiercely cold wind blew in from nowhere– almost as if it to personify the bitterness of their impending battle. In all likeliness, though, someone probably just turned down the thermostat.

"Hraghh, Typhlosion, attack!" Lyra cried, outstretching her fingers over her face. "Solar Flare!"

"W-what?" Pryce said. "Solar Flare? What kind of move is that? I've never head of such a thing–"

Spin-dashing into the air, Typhlosion bursted into a ball of fire for a brief moment and left a sun-like after-image burning way up high.

"–Oh, I see. Trying to fool me by renaming your attacks!" Pryce said. "If you think this will grant you victory, think again. Seel, use Icy Wind!"

"Typhlosion, in an arc, Thunder Punch!"

With blustery Icy Wind hurling from Seel's mouth, Typhlosion cut on through before it could hit, charged his fist with crackling electricity, and punched Seel with a jumping bolt on contact. Squealing from the high-voltage shock, Seel fizzled out and fainted.

"I see!" Pryce said, recalling Seel and readying his next pokeball. "You circumvented my Seel's Thick Fat by using an element other than fire. But that was just a warm-up. Let's see how your Thunder Punch stands against stronger contenders. Go! Piloswine!"

"Contender! Such a delicious-sounding word," Lyra said, readying another pokeball as well. "But for me, that was also just a warm-up, or more so– a set up. Typhlosion, come back! Kneebiter, go!"

When the little Sunflora beamed down onto the field right after his impressively shaggy Piloswine, Pryce laughed. "Bringing a grass-type to an ice-type match? This is going in my favor, you know."

"Hmm. But the sun is still shining brightly," Lyra said, watching intently as Kneebiter raised her face and leaves up toward the powerful after-image left behind by Typhlosion. Soaking up its intense rays, a shock wave shook the ground and Kneebiter began to scream and power-up.

Pryce couldn't believe his eyes. "That little pokemon is wielding a horrendous battle aura! What is going on? Is she harnessing the power of that fake sun? Impossible!"

"SUUUUUU," Kneebiter screamed, quivering her leaves and causing tiny chunks of ice to levitate and swirl around her.

"Kneebiter, hragghh!" Lyra screamed with her, engaging in a bout of bizarre noise-making.

"FLOOOOOOO!"

"Raaaaaghrgh!"

"Nnnnnnn!"

"Ergrrrrrhg!" Lyra grunted, but then stopped to explain herself: "Sorry, but this could take awhile. Maybe even five whole episodes."

"Five whole episodes? Are you kidding me?!" Pryce held his hands out in confusion. "Wait… Episodes?"

"FLOOOOOR!"

"Uwaggghh!" Lyra and Kneebiter's screaming and grunting continued into the fierce night.

_~To be continued…~_

* * *

***Acts like this story hasn't been on hiatus for almost a year***

**H-hey guys!**

***pelted by rocks***


	49. Night of Fire

Returning to Goldenrod City once again, Silver trolled the neon-lit streets for any sign of his rival. "And to think," he said lowly, "I used to be good at this." Actively avoiding some drunk old men who'd likely just gambled away their children on Voltorb Flip, Silver bumped shoulders with a suspicious man in a chintzy blue tracksuit instead.

"Ow! Watch where yer going!" the man yelped, holding his arm. "Damn, you nearly broke my arm. Actually. I think you DID break my arm." He held out his greedy hand at Silver. "Pay me for the hospital fees, right here and now– 50,000 pokedollars– _or else_."

"Or else what?" Silver asked; "You'll let me break your face?"

Though the man's dark sunglasses and allergy mask hid his features, his greasy smile seeped through like an oil stain. "Listen kid, I know you think you're real tough stuff, but I'm a REAL bad guy," he said. "A villain beyond your wildest imaginings. So be good and pay up, or else something bad might happen to you, or maybe even a loved one."

Taking the man's hand, Silver dislocated the man's elbow in one fell snap– dropping him to the ground and relishing his blood-curdling screams. "50,000 per limb, right?" Silver asked in confirmation, placing his heel on the man's right knee cap; "What's that make it now? 100,000? How lucky. I'm always willing to shell out for good therapy. Why, I can go higher. Go for broke, as they say."

"I WAS WRONG PLEASE HAVE MERCY–"

"Hmph." Silver wiped his boot off on the man before pulling away. "Keep screaming like that and the cops will come for us. Now's a good time to run away and snap it back in place. Don't worry, the bone's still intact. For NOW."

The man– gasping senselessly as he rolled around in pain– took a real good look at Silver before scooting backwards in realization. "I know you!" he ejected. "You're that insane redheaded kid who kicked our antenna to bits!"

Leaning down, Silver yanked the man up by the neck of his track suit. "Antenna?" Silver asked.

"I mean tree!"

"Tree antenna?" Silver glared knowingly. "Team Rocket."

"Oh no…"

"I think I remember you now, too." Silver smirked, tightening his grip. "You're that phony Black Belt's partner– that guy who ran the cover shop over their HQ. Tell me. Where is Team Rocket now?"

Gulping, the man shook his head and trembled. "I can't say. I can't say."

"Oh but you CAN say." Silver vice-gripped the man's neck. "As long as you have a FRICKEN WINDPIPE. Huh? Talk!" He squeezed only lightly and his victim began crying so hard, Silver felt a little guilty.

"THE MAGNET TRAIN STATION," the man wailed; "Past the attendant, up the stairs, on the other side of the train platform. There's a floor grate. There's stairs underneath it. And a tunnel. Which goes to the old basement. PLEASE STOP."

Silver eased his grip. "You mean, the same old basement which used to be connected to Johto's Game Corner? It wasn't filled in after the bust?"

"Ye-yeah. Wait. You knew about it?"

"That basement," Silver said, letting go, "was just another dirty place to call home."

"Wha. Huh?" The man fell to his knees, wheezing. "Just… who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that I crush Team Rocket. You gangsters are disgraceful, clinging together like filth. When I have the moment, I'll smash you all apart. That moment is now." He huffed and turned away. "Get in my way again and I'll destroy you." Leaving the man with these words, Silver set course to terrorize the train station– his thoughts of revenge fueled by urgency and paranoia– and his original intent marred by a desire to hide everything from Lyra.

_Lyra, she has as much cause to fight them as I do, _Silver thought, his eyes drifting to the black sky past the city lights;_ Even if she doesn't know it yet. Even if she doesn't know what Team Rocket did to her. But… She doesn't need to know. I'll make sure of it– that she'll never know._

Silver ran. And as uncool as he felt, he charged into the station and forced his way past the gate attendant, bullying him with physical threats until the man backed down.

_Team Rocket! _Silver thought;_ I'll tear them apart– their history and mine– before Lyra can find out about it. Then me and her, we can stay like this forever. Rivals. Because I'll make sure of it… Not even bad blood can get in the way._

Climbing to the top of the platform's stairs, Silver took a moment to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his eyes. Stunned by the wind blowing down the train track's tunnel, and distracted by the thought of the man who died here long ago, he walked into someone– a squishy vinyl body which sent familiar chills down his spine. "Pftto!" he spat, stepping back. "Shit!" He trembled. "It's the giant woman! As prophesied by that bastard–"

"–Silence!" Clair slapped Silver and proceeded to scold him; "Giant woman this! Bastard that! Shits all around! Learn some damn manners and greet people properly, _you little freak_."

"Manners? Freak?" Silver flinched. "You're the one who dresses like a fugly blue bus SEAT."

"You have NO right to speak." She slapped him again, right across the cheek. "You red and purple eyesore! You color-wheel snafu!"

"H-hey, red and purple are PROUD and noble– urk–" Silver gurgled as Clair one-handedly grasped his head and squeezed it– much like a vegetable being selected for freshness.

"Enough nonsense," she said, nearly lifting him off his feet. "You are to aid me in attacking Team Rocket again. This is to compensate for your failure last time."

"Wha-what now," Silver blurted, smacking her hand away. "I don't remember any failure whatsoever on my part."

Clair chuckled haughtily. "Well that's understandable, considering I knocked your brain loose with that blast back then. Perhaps another one would set your memories straight?"

"There's no time to fight," Silver said nervously, smoothing back his mused hair. "I'm going after Team Rocket. You can come along if you'd like, but don't expect me to watch your back or anything."

Clair crossed her arms. "Likewise," she said. "Let's go."

Annoyed by the condescending way she was treating him, Silver stomped ahead– all the way to the far side of the platform– and easily lifted up the floor grate, tossing it aside like it was a slab of cardboard. "So there ARE stairs," he said to himself, taking a moment to reflect upon this. _So Team Rocket had their basement reconnected to the train station,_ he thought, marching on down. _They must've done that because they helped fund most of it. I wonder if Lyra's father knew… or if it happened later…_

"You act like you know where you're going," Clair said, catching up to him.

"Hmph. Well maybe I do."

"Why are you even going after Team Rocket? I don't think I caught the reason last time. Does it have something to do with _your_ _own_ rival?"

"Hmph!" Silver picked up his pace. "Maybe it does!"

"Care to elaborate?"

"Care to mind your own business?"

"You little snot," Clair whacked the back of his head. "I ought to kick you down this long flight of stairs!"

"Ow! Stop hitting me!"

"Oh, that hurt? Wait until I DO kick you down this long flight of stairs."

"Listen," Silver snapped, stopping abruptly. "I don't need th–" Due to stopping mid-step, Clair bumped into him, and the both of them went tumbling down the long flight of stairs together– screaming and yelling the entire way.

When they landed at the bottom– with a loud plunk– Silver found himself smothered by the entirety of Clair's chest.

"Mffhhrg–" Silver struggled and muffled out, perturbed by how this was the SECOND TIME this thing has happened; "–hrnghh! Get OFF." He finally managed to pull his face free and complain.

Clair went red as she pushed herself halfway up. "I WILL, when you untangle yourself from me!" she declared angrily. Right when she raised her fist to brain him yet again, alarms began blaring wildly and red lights flashed from the eyes of the nearby persian statue.

"Hm, sentries," Silver said, calmly lifting Clair off of himself and then rudely tossing her aside.

Rolling, Clair jumped to her feet and ignored the slight. "I hear them coming," she said. "You take care of the ones coming! I'll get the ones at the end." She ran ahead, her black cape flying behind her.

"I told you I WOULDN'T watch your back," Silver stood up and yelled at her, enraged all the more when she continued going without even bothering to answer him. "HEY, I'm talking to YOU, you cosplaying superhero HEAD CASE."

She growled at him from the far end of the hall. "I'm _NOT_ cosplaying, this is called bodycon fashion!" she screamed. "You UNCULTIVATED _BUTTWRENCH_."

Silver lurched at this impressive insult. "OH YEAH?" he shouted back. "WELL YOU'RE STUPID."

"DITTO."

Team Rocket troops swarmed in and Silver charged ahead, tripping and socking them before the majority could send out their pokemon. When a few Koffing and Zubat managed to slip through and attack, though, he sent out Sneasel and had him shred up the enemy with sharp-clawed Fury Swipes and blasts of Icy Wind.

In the distance, Clair fought her own herd of Team Rocket grunts. With Kingdra now by her side, she punched and slammed heads together, all before raising her arm up in the air and belting out, "Waterrrr–" Stepping backwards, she directed Kingdra– who rode on a water stream all around her– towards their enemies; "–Dragon!"

Voices cried out under the relentless torrent, and when the spray was done mowing down the Rocket Grunts and soaking down the basement floor and walls, Clair and Kingdra emerged poised and victorious.

_What the,_ Silver thought, sweating slightly as he finished decking his last Grunt. _There it is again! It's like she's using magic or something… Or could it be… that she's just synchronizing her movements with her pokemon's attacks? If so, why? I don't understand the meaning of such a useless act… _With this last stubborn thought, Lance's words from that shameful battle came back and belittled Silver again.

_"You can't get stronger as you are now," _Lance had said; _"You can't until you're able to properly connect with your pokemons' hearts. Nothing can grow strong until it is nurtured and respected– and you seem unable to do either of those things."_

Silver huffed and frowned at this nagging memory. _Does this mean, that to become stronger, I have to synchronize with my pokemon like that?_ he wondered. _But still. I don't even know where to begin._

Running up ahead, Silver arrived at Clair's heels and the two of them faced a locked door. "I got a password from one of the Grunt's," Clair said, hovering her hand over the keypad and typing it in. With a melodious chime, the door opened and Clair stalked forward. When she noticed that Silver hadn't moved, she stopped and regarded him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"That thing you do," Silver said, his arms still at his sides. "Where you fight alongside your pokemon as one… what is that? Is that what makes you and Lance strong?"

Clair smirked proudly. "I see you've recognized our superior technique," she said, motioning to Kingdra. "That little attack just now was perfected by me, but it's true that the Dragon Master clan specializes in pokemon synchronization. By connecting with your pokemons' hearts and souls," she paused, her eyes flashing with fierce determination, "you can unleash incredible power."

"No way," Silver said, unable to believe it. "It doesn't make any sense. I can't control the elements like they can… How can I be part of all that?"

"By channeling it from them to you. For instance, if a ghost-type can go through walls, have it take you with it. If a fire-type can manipulate its flames, have it envelope your fists so your strikes will burn. This may sound impossible already, but it's even more of a challenge for the reverse. There are times when your pokemon will need you to channel your very energy, luck, and concentration to them so they can overcome their own enemies."

Silver gulped at this. _Shouting battle cries with everything and becoming increasingly intense and focused with every hit… Is this what Lyra does already? _he wondered, recounting their past battles, all of which her team seemed invincible in.

"If you don't understand right now, it's fine," Clair said, walking on. "Just stand back and watch. I accept any student who resolutely undertakes my direction in the clan's arts, outsider or not. After all, I am Clair, the world's best Dragon-type master… and Leader of the unbeatable Blackthorn City Gym."

"So you're," Silver said, shocked that he didn't figure out sooner, "the highest-ranked Gym Leader in all of Johto…?"

When Clair pushed her way into the next room, Silver followed, the two of them finally working together.

* * *

Back at Mahogany Town's Ice-type Gym, Pryce stared Lyra down and then confidently regarded her Super Sunflora. "Sorry lass," he said, closing his age-creased eyes and laughing into the chilly wind, "but I'm not waiting another 'episode', or whatever it is you kids called it nowadays. Piloswine, it's time to turn this good weather around." He raised his free arm, directing his wooly behemoth to charge. "Overpower this Sunny Day with your Hail!"

"Uah!" Lyra gasped, her mouth hanging open for a split second. _I can't let that hail hit,_ she thought, _or else Sunflora will be unable to fully utilize her ultimate attack! _"Sunflora," Lyra yelled, quivering and becoming enraged, "Crush the atoms! Unleash the power of the power of the power of the sun! Special attack, Solar Beamuu–"

"–Power of the power of the power?" Pryce repeated, sweating despite the battle field's frigid temperature. "Wow, that's a lot of power…" He quickly eyed Piloswine and noticed that the behemoth was taking too long to charge up and release hail. "Now! Hurry!"

Shaking up the air with absorbed energy, Kneebiter let out a wild yell which shook and overtook every sound wave with its reverberation. "SUNFLO–" she screamed through her forever-smiling mouth, rocking the heavens– or at least the gym rafters– with her overflowing fervor and overwhelming power level, "–RAA!"

At once, a golden blast let up from Kneebiter's body and piled forward, rushing at Piloswine and plowing through him as a beam. Lyra and Pryce grunted, wincing and shielding their eyes from the incredible light flooding out all around. Pushed backwards by the terrible energy force, the two of them crooked their elbows and held still, bending their knees to keep from flying away.

"Erghh!" Pryce gasped, unable to believe what was happening; "Such horrendous power. In all my years of battling, never have I seen such ferocity unleashed from such a small pokemon. If this keep going on, this entire gym will be rifted apart!"

When the light from the attack subsided, Pryce uncovered his eyes and found that Piloswine had fainted and that his prediction was nearly spot on. "There's a hole," he said, turning around, fully conscious of the broken wall behind him. "You left a hole in my gym!" he declared, unnerved by the gaping opening which led outside. As the gym's chilled inner air mixed with the tepid, autumn night's breeze, the wind became ferocious and the two trainers faced each other, their capes and scarves fluttering rapidly in its midst (and with no effort at all).

Kneebiter, still glowing under the artificial sun made by Typhlosion's Sunny Day, gasped and wheezed as her Solar Powered ability sustained its might and took its effects on her health.

"Sorry for the mess, old man," Lyra said, sweating and doubling-over in shared pain with Kneebiter. "If your gym insurance doesn't cover the damages here, you can talk it over with my insurer in Ecruteak. He's the director at the Dance Hall there."

Astonished by Lyra's concern for his property– especially since she'd just willingly blown it up– Pryce let out a great laugh. "Humph…" he emitted, regaining his composure and recalling Piloswine's keeled over form. "You are quite the trainer." _At this rate,_ he thought, selecting his last pokeball, _it would be easy to believe that I was about to lose. But. I've been training pokemon since before she was born! Yes, I do not lose easily. The hardships I've overcome during my long life, they prove this! _

"Dewgong, it's up to you–" Pryce let out, throwing down and unleashing his last fighter, "–Go all out and counter with your Aurora Beam!"

"Kneebiter–" Lyra boomed, clenching her fists as she watched her weary warrior– who was now in need of encouragement, "–Being content with just trying is something only the ordinary must do! But you're no ordinary Kneebiter– for you– there is no trying– there is only doing. Doing what can't be done– and doing exactly that– and completely like you naturally can!" Sweeping her fists outwards, she braced herself for the final blast. "Like a thousand volts of solar power coursing through our entire bodies– I can instantly feel your courageous purpose, and your SUPREME will to fight!"

Invigorated by this battle summation, Kneebiter glowed radiantly and filled with courage. "Sun," she said, focusing on what had to be done. Up ahead, Dewgong was building up for his counter beam attack and whipping up a vacuum with his temperature shift.

"Go go–" Lyra yelled, throwing herself forward in anticipation, "–Solar, Beamuu!"

"–FLO RA RA–" Kneebiter shrieked, enveloping the gym with one last burst of light, and flooding everything with energy– all the way up and out to the real heavens this time.

The ensuing explosion was heard for miles and miles.

* * *

In the lost underground basement, Clair and Silver battled their way forward, bullying Grunt after Grunt and blowing through doors with Silver's knowledge of the place. When the two happened upon a room lined with dusty, heavy old seats (and which was a noticeable dead-end), Silver sat down in one and appeared to engage in deep thought. After a few seconds, however, he switched to another seat.

Clair, puzzles by Silver's behavior, stood nearby him and watched– and after the third seat, asked him: "Little punk, what are you doing?"

After a second of rumination, Silver finally spoke. "In one of these chairs," he snapped, "is a weak cushion." After sitting on the most recent one, he sprung up and began pushing the back of the heavy chair. As soon as he did, it slid out from under his hands and went along on its own track, rewarding him with an 8-bit melody and a secret staircase in the floor, which opened up on the other side of the room.

"Hm, nice one," Clair complimented, impressed by his success. "Wait," she then added, doubly aware of what it also meant. "How did you know about all this?"

Silver went for the stairs without any hesitation. "Magic," he answered.

"Nonsense! Really, how did you know?"

Silver tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as he went down the stairs, (which was clearly just asking for another accident to happen). "How do I know? I kicked it out of a thug," he said.

Clair nodded, almost ready to accept this reasonable-enough (at least to her) excuse, but then she had a flash of insight. "Hold it, if that's true," she said, "what about all the other things, like all the paths, gates, and switches you knew how to go through and operate in the correct order? Not even Team Rocket knew, if I recall correctly, since they had to wait for the floor plans to show up at their cave campout!"

Silver exhaled at her persistence. "Then I also kicked that out of a thug." Silver was aware that his explanation was falling apart, but he was too proud to admit that he might as well be that imaginary kicked thug. When they reached the next basement level, however, Silver realized that he couldn't continue hide the truth about himself, for standing before them at the bottom was his very own step-mother, Rocket Executive Ariana.

The iron-jawed woman, standing forcibly before them, gripped the pokeballs on her belt and seemingly guarded her lead scientist, Greg, who worked hastily on soldering something to an opened-up boom box-like device in the corner.

_I remember that thing,_ Silver thought, watching the scientist work. _Isn't it that Wave Amp they scrapped together for their back-up plan? Could it be a pokemon mind-control device?_

"How nice of you to join us," Ariana said, her mouth twitching from the severe smile she was forcing to hold. "I heard a brat and a woman were up causing trouble on B1… of course I knew it was you! But yet, who's this?" She pointed to Clair. "I thought you already had a girlfriend, and a younger one at that… Or are you just that much like your father?"

"Cut the crap," Silver said, angered by her words. "You caught the attention of the Pokemon League, so I let in the region's top Gym Leader as my back-up."

Clair didn't like this claim at all. "You've got it the other way around, little punk," she mentioned.

"I told you I wasn't watching your back, so deal with it."

Though initially worried by her step-son's claims, Executive Ariana threw back her head and cackled. "Seems there's a divide of power between our so-called heroes!" she said with high elation. "If you're so self-assured, then answer this… If the _great_ and _powerful_ League wants to stop the dangerous resurgence of Team Rocket, why did they only send in a lowly Gym Leader?"

Chuckling once, Clair crossed her arms. "Because that's all it takes to stop you weaklings," she said, closing her eyes. "Oh yes, I went there."

Silver did the same. "What she said, but with more feeling," he said.

Red-faced and belittled, Ariana began to fume and shake with a terrible temper. "What nerve! Acting so righteous, just because you're destroying everything your father stood for!" she yelped. "How did you become such a cowardly little backstabber?"

"Cowardly?" Silver spat, stepping forward. "I'm not the one CLINGING to the puffed-up illusion of a has-been man. When will you finally get it? He never cared about you or me or Mars– or even my real mother. All he cared about was his crap supremacy! Get it through your STUPID pointy head and stop being a criminal in his place… You're better off without him."

Inhaling sharply, Ariana began to gurgle and nearly break down in tears from his cruel but all-too-true words. Instead, she unhitched the pokeball she had her hand on and sent out Arbok, who plopped out onto the floor and slid forward, raising her giant fanned head and roaring.

"I understand now," Clair said to Silver, having quietly considered everything she just overheard. "I understand why you're after Team Rocket now." She nodded at him. "I'll help you in any way I can."

Silver threw down Haunter's pokeball and gestured at him to attack. "Shadow Ball," he yelled, looking back at Clair. "If you want to help, get the scientist," he told her. "That thing he's working on is dangerous. Destroy it."

Getting on it, Clair ran past the battle, causing Ariana to yell at Gregg and force the frazzled scientist to jump up and attack Clair with his under-leveled Magnemite.

In response, Clair called out Dragonair, readied herself, and began chanting her brutal Dragon Slave spell, which Silver realized was actually crafted from Dragonair's DragonBreath attack.

"W-wait," Silver said, his body tensing up automatically upon her deliberate recital. "I said destroy the machine, not the whole reeking basement!"

"Dragonnn–" Clair bellowed, ignoring his every word, "–Suh-lave!"

Beneath the sounds of Gregg, Silver, and Ariana's screams, particles blasted apart and the basement popped from the inside out.

The ensuing explosion was heard for miles and miles.

_~To be continued…~_

* * *

**Yes, now I can finally tackle the Radio Tower in the next chapter *holds face and cries***

**This was going to be my reverse birthday gift, but it was finished a week early so why wait. Heck, I'll even edit it later. Screw professionalism! This is what it means to fanfic jglkfjkflj**


	50. The Big Lipped Feraligatr Moment

Leaving Mahogany Town's gym, panting, Lyra grasped her chest and hunched over. "That battle really took it out of me!" she said with a gasp, knowing it was even MORE so for Kneebiter. "But I guess it IS later in the day now… or actually, _early_." She peered up at the glowing sky and witnessed the stars already fading away to light of the before-dawn hours. "Seems I went a whole 'nother day without sleeping… but that's OK," she reasoned aloud. "I slept for days before that, after all."

Taking a step forward, Lyra's mind outlined her battle just then and a nagging feeling settled in her gut. _We may have won,_ she thought—an aftertaste of loss hitting her, _but if the opponent's speed had been any faster, we would've been outgunned. If they had succeeded in setting up hail as planned, Kneebiter's defeat… would have been certain._

Wrapping herself up in her cape, Lyra stared down at her feet—at the tops of her dusty red loafers—and pierced through the meaning of their victory. _I've had this slight feeling for some time now, but it's clearer now, _she thought;_ I can't ignore this flaw in my team any longer… I believe IN their strengths, but I also believe their weaknesses. If we are to train ON the road of ultimate, our party needs one more player—one more soul to turn our game around. _She sweated anxiously, realizing what had to be done. _I have to do… that. _

And whatever THAT was, it certainly had to be _done_. Even better yet, it had to be explained, since not even Lyra could explain it to herself. It was just that certain! In the meantime, Lyra's half-conceptionalized plan would remain that way, for all of a sudden—in violation of her usual sharp reflexes—she realized that her phone had been ringing and vibrating on her bag the whole time. "Ah! It's Elm," she said, curiously opening and answering the phone in a deep voice: "I thought I told the office not to call me on the weekend!"

"Uh—Lyra?" Elm asked, sounding very confused.

Lyra laughed shortly at her indulgent joke before answering. "Hey Professor, how's it going?"

"G-good," Elm said with hesitance. "You?"

"Good. Good!"

"Good." With all these admissions of 'good', Elm felt they were turning into good pokemon. "I called… because something weird is happening with the radio broadcasts."

"Mh-hm," Lyra emitted, following this very closely, since it was bound to be of import. _That's the Professor for you,_ she thought proudly. _Straight to the point!_

"On all of the stations, they were talking." He paused. "About Team Rocket."

Nearly dropping her phone in surprise, Lyra clutched it tighter to her ear and trembled, forgetting to answer him in time.

"Lyra, with all your traveling around Johto lately, you may have seen suspicious activity… activity you haven't told me _or_ _even your own mother_ about," he went on, almost as if he were aware of all the trouble Lyra had been causing for the past few weeks. "Do you know anything about it?" With the forbidding way he spoke, he _almost_ sounded EXACTLY like a trainer who was about to withdraw his pokemon from the battlefield.

And that would be her.

"W-what are you saying?" Lyra answered, gulping down several large knots pooling in her throat. "I… I have been SO focused on pokemon battling—and NOT causing property damage, NOR being a caped vigilante, and NEVER getting in trouble with the police—to notice anything!"

Elm held his doubtful silence for an unbearably pregnant moment before speaking again. "Maybe Team Rocket has returned." He sighed wearily, thinking about the consequences of such an event in relation to Lyra's future. "No, that just can't be true…" The truth was, he didn't WANT it to be true, because his worries weren't unfounded. There was precedence. Yes, he remembered the rumors surrounding the phantom third rival from three years back—the girl who had sacrificed one of her closest comrades so Red could defeat Team Rocket. The loss was said to have been so great for her, she lost all direction as a trainer and eventually faded out of the spotlight after her momentary stint as Champion. After that, no one knew where she went—not even Gary Oak, who continued searching for both her and Red from thereon after.

Such tragic run-ins with danger and then final disappearances… They seemed to be the fate of two-out-of-three Champions. Elm knew that if he became the cause—the benefactor of such a fate with Lyra—it would destroy both her and her mother, and he would never forgive himself. He may have been blind to it years before, but now that Lyra was cropping up before the fault-finding public eye, he was starting to see the hypocritical ways he had been treating her and her family.

"Elm," Lyra said, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts. "I know we barely know each other, and I'm not nearly as impressive as Crystal, but… believe in me. And in my way. And believe in yourself, who chose me. Do your best and never regret the choices we made. We made them alone yet together."

Taken aback by Lyra's self-assurance—and especially by the way she assured him—Elm's troubles fell out of his mind and he momentarily forgot he was even talking to a child. "Hn," he let out, unable to say anything against what she'd said. It was the truth, in its rawest form. Right now, he had to believe in her, no matter the dangers. Because after being unleashed like she had been, the ordinary could no longer be applied to her; she had already evolved into the makings of a champion, and a frightening one at that.

Solemnly understanding this and saying their goodbyes, Elm hung up, and after the click, Lyra listened to the droning disconnect tone for awhile before ending her line, tuning into the radio and then listening in. "Testing! Testing 1, 2, 3…" Hissing and scratching overtook most of the radio announcer's words, but the broadcast straightened itself out. "We're the amazing Team Rocket!" the announcer said, a recording of their devious anthem playing in the background. "It's been three years but we've rebuilt the team and restructured, and we're proud announce that we're back—"

"—They're there," Lyra realized aloud, scurrying to unlatch Aerodactyl's pokeball. "The Goldenrod Radio Tower."

"Giovanni! Can you hear this?!" the radio announcer went on: "We finally did it!"

"Bird-o, go!" Lyra yelled with a flick of her wrist, Aerodactyl's pokeball uncapping and his form swooping out, over, and under her—whisking her off into the paling sky.

On Lyra's bag, her wind-battered pokegear radio still blared out: "Where could the boss be, I wonder? I wonder if he heard this announcement…"

* * *

Taunting voices called out in the dark, and even though Silver chased after them, he fell further behind until they seemed to be lightyears away in the unimaginable space beyond. Failure. The paralyzing fear and affliction of it. Doubt, helplessness, disappointment, and anger. Unable to go on but knowing he could never stop—not with such pathetic feelings born from weakness—he noticed the soft warm blankets enveloping him and he finally woke up, the source of his stressful dream buzzing up above him on a cabinet.

"—the amazing Team Rocket!" the amateur radio announcer went on. "It's been three years but we've rebuilt the team and—"

Averting his eyes to the ceiling, Silver noticed a leathery old face peering down at him through candlelight. Too stupefied to yell or even move, Silver stared back, grasped his blankets up to his nose, and held his breath until he recognized it was a woman. _What is UP with me and old ladies? _he thought after brief introspection, rolling away and sitting up. He shrugged off his blankets. "Why am I here?" he asked her, holding his drowsy head and listening closely to the Team Rocket broadcast. "So they're still out causing trouble…"

The old lady stood up. "You were brought here by a sexy woman," she explained, wandering away to switch the room light on. "She asked us to watch over you. Then she left!"

Silver paused at this description before turning away. "No clue who THAT is," he said, jumping out of bed. _And I didn't hit my head and forget,_ Silver thought bitterly. _I won't forgive that giant woman for pulling that Dragon Show-off Stunt twice! _

Taking a moment to gain his bearing and fully awaken, Silver focused when he recognized how familiar everything was. _I've seen this before, _he thought, looking behind him at the dining table beneath the far window. _Of course… I know this place. Isn't this that daycare? And that old woman. She's related to that guy—_

The side door slid open and (right on cue) Ethan, the childhood friend, appeared. "Grandmother!" he yelled, out of breath. "Team Rocket—they took over the Radio Tower—during Crystal's early-morning radio interview! They tricked her out of her pokemon and I was no match… We need to gather the strongest pokemon here to fight them off!"

"Hold on," the old woman answered. "We can't just take our clientele's pokemon and thrust them into danger."

"They're already in danger!"

Scoffing at the noisy scene, Silver stood up. "You both have a good point," he said, turning away. "But they negate each other, so shut up."

"Huh?" Ethan emitted and moved closer, squinting his eyes at Silver. "Hey. Have we spoken before?"

Silver frowned uncomfortably and turned away. "No," he answered, "I'd never speak to a weakling like you." And at this, he recalled that ONE time he prank-dialed Ethan from Lyra's phone and—sweating profusely—he filled with further discomfort and added embarrassment. _I can't believe it, I only did it one time,_ Silver thought critically. _Of course, it was a dumb idea, but I only blew into the phone! How could he recognize my voice through something like that alone?_

Ethan crossed his arms finally. "Hey. You know Lyra, right?"

Though Silver was sweating so much now that he needed a new shirt above anything, he searched for his jacket—which he only just then noticed was missing. "Humph," he scoffed forcedly. "Who DOESN'T know about Lyra? Among us top trainers, she's something of a legend."

Ethan leaned over his grandma's shoulder, observing something. "Hmm, that may be true. But. Your name's Silver, right?"

These correct assumptions could no longer be mere coincidence. "Why?" Silver demanded, his discomfort surmounting. "Did Lyra herself TELL you about me?"

"No," Ethan said, holding up Lyra's old cape, all the candid photos of her, and Silver's trainer's card. "But I found these babies in your jacket pocket!"

Turning completely red, Silver shielded his face with one hand and jumped at Ethan, attempting to grab his stuff back with the other. "What gives you the RIGHT to STEAL other people's THINGS?" he yelled, his rage building every time Ethan slipped away. "GRRR, hold still you—"

"—Hmm, if your name is Silver, which is the name of the one who broke into the lab," Ethan muttered, holding his chin in thought_ while dodging _all of the boy's attacks, "then that means your Feraligatr was Elm's Totodile. And your Sneasel. He was probably that Pokemaniac's…"

Silver stopped to search his now empty pants pockets. "What did you do with MY pokemon?" he snapped.

"He didn't do anything, dear," Ethan's grandmother spoke up, handing Silver back his jacket. "Your pokemon were all dirty and fatigued so I bathed them. Feraligatr and Sneasel were having a good time so I left them in the daycare and put the rest back in here." She patted the jacket.

"That's right," Ethan added. "On my way here, I noticed them CANOODLING in the front yard with some Ditto."

"Canoodling?" Silver repeated, unsure as to what this meant but certain it was _absolutely no good_. After slipping his jacket back on, he pushed past Ethan, retrieved his belongings, and then ran out the side door—Ethan following him in turn.

When the two boys ran past the hot spring bath and into the lush indoor garden, they happened Feraligatr, who was cuddling in the big center gazebo with a beady-eyed, pink copy of himself. So strange was the sight, the two boys couldn't help but stop and gawk uncomfortably.

Overcoming his shock, Silver groaned in disgust. "What IS that thing?" he demanded and pointed at the pink Feraligatr, duly unsettled by its counterfeit appearances.

Ethan chuckled in amusement. "I told you earlier, your pokemon were CANOODLING with some Ditto," he said, using that difficult word yet again. "Didn't you know? Ditto are total players. But can you blame them? If you could morph into anyone's strike zone, I think you'd do the same." Ethan snidely folded his arms behind his head and added, "I mean, you'd kinda have to… if you're aiming for _that person_…" He then snorted in light of Silver's stalker memorabilia.

"Shut up!"

"Hey." Ethan put his hands up. "I understand your pain. And I only meant that Lyra's tastes are _just_ _that_ _abstract_."

Silver huffed. "What? Is that supposed to help me feel better?" Despite his efforts to act cool about this, his curiosity caved in. "What are they?"

"I'm talking super fighting robots," Ethan explained, holding his arms out to demonstrate the dimensions of _something_. "And space aliens!"

Silver stood very still to contemplate these dimensions, and as he was doing so, his Sneasel walked up on him and began using his back legs as a scratching post. "…What are we talking about again?" the boy wondered aloud.

Before Ethan could reveal any more secrets, a massive magic circle appeared underneath the gazebo—from out of nowhere—and consumed the entire room with its cosmic, primordial energies.

"Hmm… did Grandma install new deck lights again?" Ethan wondered aloud, watching the symbols on the magic circle glow white and reverberate with deafening space drumming.

Silver held his ears, certain that these were NOT deck lights. "Sneasel!" he yelled, outraged at being subjected to such an anomaly. "What did you DO?"

Sneasel, no more sure himself, mewled pitifully and climbed up Silver like a carpeted pet tower, his claws digging into Silver's chest as the three of them watched the magic circle intensify and rob their perception of reality. Soon enough, they—and the gazebo with Feraligatr and his mate inside—were flying over rings of light, the universe, imploding nebulas, more magic circles, forests, oceans, rainbows, skies, cities, and all sorts of mind-numbing astral nonsense.

"Great Golbats," Ethan said as they hovered over the magnified view of a circuit board and then a fiery red sunset. "This is just like my Grandpa's desktop's screen saver!"

Unable to keep anywhere near as calm as Ethan, Silver yelled in existential pain and grasped his face, his mind peeled away by the terrifying rapidness of the seemingly random images (and also Sneasel's claws). "What… what the f..." He held his head as they passed through a rumbling volcano and then unexplainably between the charging clouds of a lightning storm. "Make it stop, it's violating my mind!"

Ocean waves crashed and the previous volcano exploded. Once again, they were hovering through the very image of space—in the middle of the mind-crushing void—and over their little blue planet which buried all their insignificant worries on its tiny, far-away surface.

"You know," Ethan said, noticeably shaken in spite of his level-headedness thus far. "This was all very weird. But at the end of the day, I'm sure a pokemon did it."

"I don't think it's over yet," Silver retorted. And it wasn't. Before he could even close his mouth, the image of space rifted in on itself and they were pulled inside a time warp, the insides of a living cell, a galaxy, and then a monochrome eclipse which spun around to reveal they were approaching the planet at a breakneck speed. By now, Ethan was screaming and Silver was squeezing Sneasel—the both of them hyper-ventilating and suppressing the very real urge to cry.

In a final flare-up of light, the initial magic circle re-appeared and flickered in and out of their physical plane before dying down, taking all its disturbingly preachy imagery with it, and phasing them back into the daycare's lush indoor garden with everything still intact. It was almost as if their incredible journey had never even transpired.

Silver, continuing to hyper-ventilate (well after reality had been restored), jolted when he noticed a giant egg with blue oval spots roll down the nearby gazebo steps. "Y…you," he started uncertainly, pointing a shaky finger at Ethan. "Tell me. What is that thing?"

Ethan, proud that his talents were naturally recognizable (especially by a brute like Silver), went forth and retrieved the egg. "It looks like a pokemon egg," he said, holding it close to his chest and turning it over. "A Feraligatr egg, to be exact." He held his ear closer in thought. "I wonder… if this is directly connected to what just happened. If so, we've just witnessed a miracle!"

Silver dropped Sneasel and held his breath. "No way," he uttered, his face turning blue from the lack of oxygen. "Are you saying. Are you trying to say. That all of that just now… is how pokemon are born?"

Ethan cradled the egg and smiled. "Well… uh. Yes, I suppose so! Congratulations, Silver. You're a PokéGrandpa!"

Silver glared unforgivingly at Feraligatr and then exploded. "IDIOT," he yelled, shaking his fists ballistically at the clueless pokemon. "Why are you BIRTHING through time and space AND at such a critical moment? Team Rocket is taking over as we speak! This is UNPARDONABLE. You fill me with _shame_."

Understanding this now, Feraligatr frowned and appeared deeply ashamed as well. Who knew if he would ever be pardoned by the boy!

In spite of all this drama, Ethan forced a smile. "Aw, come on now. You can't begrudge your pokemon a _little_ bit of romance on the side. Besides, what's done is done. And life must go on." He held the egg out to Silver. "Do you want to keep it or not? If not… my Grandma says these make phenomenal quiche."

Silver ripped the egg from Ethan's hands and gave him a fierce scowl. "This is mine," Silver said, holding the egg away. "And if Feraligatr won't take responsibility for it, _I_ _will_." And he held it guardedly at his side, because perhaps he saw a little bit of himself in that thoughtlessly-made, abandoned egg which had a lone prospective future as quiche. Or perhaps, it was because Sneasel was going nuts meowing and begging to have it as a delicious snack. "You dumb house Sneasel!" Silver scolded him. "You can't eat this! You'd just barf it up anyway!"

Feraligatr, understanding the nature of the conversation before, wobbled up beside Silver and took the egg in his gargantuan blue hands. Bending his clawed fingertips backwards, he took extra care holding it, showing he was going to make a promising father.

"So you understand?" Silver asked him, watching as Sneasel now begged and pleaded with Feraligatr instead, the new master of the snacks. Feraligatr nodded and Silver huffed, greatly relieved. "Good," he went on. "Only the weak abandon their young. Don't disappoint me."

Grinning, Feraligatr nodded slowly. "Fra fra," he rasped out between breaths, standing straight and holding the egg up high. Grinning with his gleaming knife-like teeth, he held his head back—opened his mouth—and carefully placed the egg on his tongue, gulping it down like a pill.

Silver watched, mouth agape in horror as a large blue bulge crept down Feraligatr's neck.

Feraligatr had eaten his unborn child.

"Uh…" Ethan uttered, shocked but not nearly as traumatized as Silver now was. "At least he took responsibility for it!"

Facing away, Silver slumped and held his fists against his forehead in searing mental anguish. _Is this… Is this the final proof that I've failed to teach my pokemon trust and love?_ he wondered, trying to comprehend why any creature would eat its own baby. Of all the reasons, this one made the most sense. _It's because I taught him to be this way…!_

Sneasel, crestfallen now that Feraligatr had packed the snack away, abandoned their brooding master and went back to his own business back around the gazebo. Ethan, left alone with Silver, cautiously patted the boy's shoulder.

"It's not your fault, man," Ethan said gently. "It might seem senseless to you, so much so that you'll torture yourself wrapping your head around it, but sometimes… you just have to accept. Pokemon move in mysterious ways."

Silver looked up, strangely consoled by the boy's words, but then quickly annoyed. "Don't touch me," he snapped, pouting at his misfortune.

Without anything to add, Ethan glanced away and caught sight of Sneasel walking out from behind the gazebo with a pink Ditto copy of himself—and most likely the same Ditto that bred with Feraligatr earlier. Walking arm in arm, the two began nuzzling each other and purring.

"Oh no!" Ethan cried, clenching his fists and trembling. "I don't think I can take this kind of love triangle!"

Catching sight of this scene as well, Silver held his head and yelled a big 'NO!'

Rushing in on Sneasel, Silver grabbed him away and ran out of the garden, with Ethan and Feraligatr racing after them just as pressingly.

_~To be continued…~_

* * *

**Hm… I wanted to cram the Radio Tower part in here but it's been a few months since the last chapter release. Gotta throw SOMETHING up for you guys until then. (Well at least it's not Sneasel's throw-up!)**

**For as much as I'm withholding the coveted Radio Tower part from everyone, I really need to add more climatic stuff after it, huh? No problem. Got lots in store... Heheheh.**


	51. Silver's Theme Goes with Everything

Forever traumatized by pokemon mating rituals, Ethan and Silver (with Sneasel in arm) fled from the daycare center with Feraligatr trailing and a peculiar fan-headed creature scampering close behind.

Ethan, noticing this creature, took a moment to observe it and found it was simply Marill clutching a scrubbing towel and wearing a rubber shampoo shield on his head. "There you are, Marill," Ethan said, regarding the ridiculous visor-wearing pokemon. "Sorry to cut your bath time short, but there's all kinds of emergencies going on right now!"

"Mar!" Marill cried, knowing what had to be done. Snapping his towel in the air, he began dance-stepping, working it, and bouncing like he was being paid.

"I said emergencies, not festivities!"

Marill never got the news that summer Matsuri was over. He was decidedly not very good at practicing Buddhism.

Mildly annoyed by all this brainless behavior, Silver glared at the horizon and

breathed sharply when he saw Team Rocket grunts approaching. "Look," he said, dropping Sneasel from the crook of his elbow and calling Ethan's attention. "Seems they stole your idea."

"This is bad!" Ethan said. "If they loot the daycare of all its tough pokemon, Goldenrod is done for!"

"Hmph. I wouldn't say that. I've never seen any particularly strong pokemon in there…"

"Are you insulting my grandparents' training methods?!" Ethan jumped at this provocation, but then gave the boy's disclosure some thought. "Wait… have you actually been inside there before?" Trainers were almost NEVER allowed to stroll in the daycare's indoor garden, so it was basically a pretty big deal.

"NO MORE questions," Silver snapped, knowing he'd said too much. If he revealed how he snuck in during Lyra's bath time before, she could find out and raze all of west Johto in her fury. "You stay here," he went on, flagrantly pointing at Ethan. "Weaklings like you will only get in the way. I'll stop Team Rocket where they are, once and for all."

In an astonishing demonstration of facial elasticity, Ethan siphoned in his cheeks and frowned so intensely, he appeared to be subduing tears of rage by somehow turning inside-out. "I'm not weak!" he bursted with righteous force. "You're just a JERK!"

Startled by the creepy face Ethan was making, Silver unwittingly gulped. _What the hell,_ he thought; _Why do I keep running into these kinds of freaks? _"D-don't give me that face," he scolded Ethan uncertainly. "It's for your own good."

"JERK!"

"Tch! It's JERKFACE, get it right you—" Silver froze. _And now I'm just accepting this term? _he wondered darkly, beleaguered by melancholy._ As my nickname? But is it even one of endearment?_

During Silver's depressing moments of self-introspection, Team Rocket grunts closed in on the area with their rocket launchers raised and pokeballs ready. Smirking, they marched on with an exaggerated swagger in their shiny new vinyl go-go boots, which their pants legs were BOLDLY and _rather controversially_ tucked into. With this spiffy look, they thought they were rebels—mavericks—fashionably edgy bad dudes sticking it to the system. But in actuality, they were just bored of their six day workweeks at the Pokemart and playing solitaire on the clock.

"Uh, Silver?!" Ethan asked tensely, searching him for a response but finding him wasted by lovesickness. "Oh snap, he's beside himself with DOLOUR! We'll have to fight them ourselves, Marill."

Silver wasn't sure what DOLOUR was, but he didn't like the sound of it one bit. He snapped out of his deep contemplations and clicked his tongue irately. "What did I tell you?" he said, shoving Ethan back. "Team Rocket it mine, stay out of the way." He motioned at Sneasel. "Get ready, you." Right as they faced their enemy, a cloud of rock and sand flurried overhead—filling their noses with dust and causing them to flinch and gag.

"What was that?" a Team Rocket grunt gasped, shielding his nose with his hat. His accomplices hacked and grumbled as well, only stopping when the dust cloud began to clear.

Out from the murky air stood a scowling Milktank and three trendy girls—a Lass named Carrie, Beauty Samantha, and the Goldenrod City Gym Leader herself, Whitney. "Hey Team Rocket!" Whitney called, winking playfully. "What's with that frumpy getup you're wearing? Didn't you know? That look is SO three years ago."

Slinging her designer handbag over her shoulder, Beauty Samantha flipped her pompadour ponytail and flashed a confident smile. She had used double amounts of faux eyelash glue beforehand so she was positive they wouldn't fall off this time. "Oh wow!" she said to the grunts with a pursed smile. "Cute costumes… Did you buy them in bulk?"

Offended by these flippant remarks, the grunt holding his hat stepped forward. "How DARE you insult our STYLISH and _timeless_ uniform? It's a classic," he roared. "The awesome symbol of our Team Rocket pride! And of course they're ordered in bulk, that's the only way to ensure their fabric and construction remains consistent from batch to batch!"

Lass Carrie fearlessly jumped forward—as she often did in class—and threw her arms open wide in preparation for a motivational speech. (Actually, she did this every day in class, and to the point where others became irrationally angry upon her spontaneous disruptions and leaps to the front of the classroom.) "There's must-have items for every season," she cried, her tiny mini skirt fluttering in the breeze, "but don't be carbon-copies! Trendsetters are trendsetters because they've got their own original style!"

"Mh-hm, that's right," Beauty Samantha chimed in.

"Uh-huh!" Whitney agreed, pointing at the enemy. "Don't be posers, losers! That's an ironclad rule for gals!"

"Why you…" the grunt growled, seething with resentment. "Don't tell us what to do, we own this city now!"

"Word," another grunt said. "We'll mess you up."

"That's what you think, Team Rock-Bottom!" Whitney yelled, pointing at them. "Milktank, Rollout!" Dust kicked up again as Milktank revved-up and spun out, but the grunts dove out of the way and scrambled into position.

"Save your pokemon," the first grunt yelled to his accomplices, "use firepower to chase these troublemakers back to their gym! Fire!" He waved his arm, signaling the missiles forward.

"MOVE, weaklings," Silver roared, charging into the line of fire. Sending out Magnemite, he grabbed the poor hovering pokemon in one hand and made a fist with the other. "Sonic boom!" he yelled, throwing Magnemite forward and punching beside it at the same time, boomeranging a powerful burst of fist-generated air alongside it as a back-up blast.

Closing its eye and shrieking, Magnemite unleashed a spinning shockwave and sliced all the missiles in half, exploding them mid-air to Team Rocket's frightened astonishment. Crying in the wake of the backfire, Magnemite braced itself for abuse but was instead boomeranged off to the side by the back-up burst, where Silver dashed and caught it. "You alive?" Silver asked, shielding it with his arms. "Don't wimp out already," he coughed, rock and debris pitting his face. "I'm going easy on you."

Stunned beyond belief by their coordinated attack. Magnemite stared at the boy. Somehow, Silver had synchronized their movements and swept it from danger with the sheer wind-energy of his killing fist.

"What in the?" a grunt gasped. "Just, what is this kid?"

"That's my new buddy Silver," Ethan said self-assuredly. "Watch yourself, you petty thugs. He's a berserk delinquent with emotional problems!"

"Silver?" the grunts murmured amongst each other. Somehow, they'd heard that name before.

Whitney and Samantha, huddled in the dirt, pulled apart to reveal they had guarded their youngest member—Carrie—in a mere split second. "Hey Ethan, is that you?" Whitney asked shakily, her eyes wide.

"Whitney, you've got to get out of here," Ethan said. "It's dangerous!"

"Right." Whitney stood up and nodded. "We'll lead these goons away from here, but you've gotta go and bust the Game Corner for us. Voltorb Flip is just a cover-up, you know? My sources are totally legit, I swear! The back wall is false, Team Rocket runs an illegal casino behind it."

"Impossible," Silver said, "Team Rocket had all their gambling properties seized three years back."

Whitney bit her lip and squeezed her arm. "Listen," she said. "My old man is a police officer. They've known about this for like, forever, but they won't do anything. Ethan, they're holding your friend hostage there! You know, the girl in the funny cap with twin-tails?"

_This can't be,_ Silver thought in silent panic. _Did they somehow capture Lyra?_

_Crystal! _Ethan realized, knowing the girl genius was still in trouble. Holding his face in horror, he yelled at the sky, "My GIRLFRIIIEND."

"Y-your girlfriend?" Silver stepped over and grabbed him by the bill of his hat. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Your past together means NOTHING to me. You hear?" He rattled Ethan around. "She's MY rival, you important childhood bastard."

"Wow, rude," Samantha said.

"No way!" Ethan said sharply, tugging himself loose. "There's no way a hooligan like you could rival her scientific genius."

Silver mulled this over. "… Are we talking about the same person?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, I dunno." Ethan crossed his arms and straightened his posture. "I'm only talking about the secret pop-star, Ruins of Alph decoder. Legendary Trio captor, AND Upcoming Professor herself, Crystal Maple."

"Yeah?" Silver huffed, bullying his way into Ethan's face. "I'm talking about… about… about My RIVAL, Lyra."

Ethan and the girls covered their mouths and puffed out stifled laughter. "He doesn't know her proper name!" they let out.

"GO DIE."

"Stupid brats, stop ignoring us!" the lead grunt cried, waving his arm forward. "Fire!"

"But that kid," his accomplices continued to mumble. "Isn't he?…"

"Yeah, for sure," another said. "If the boss comes back to him splattered, he'll be kinda _maybe_ a little pissed."

Agitated by Team Rocket's loud gossiping, Silver turned on them and scowled menacingly. "SHUT UP," he said, rushing forward and punching a launcher gun from the nearest grunt's hands, "You too… GO DIE." He punted the man clear across the road and began stomping on a sobbing second.

"Goodness," Lass Carrie said to Ethan. "He DOES have emotional problems!"

"Oh man," Ethan said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "There's NO time for this, I've gotta save Crystal!" He began sprinting away before yelling back, "I'm busting the Game Corner now, tell Silver he can meet up if he wants."

"What? Don't go by yourself!" Whitney yelled at him. "You can't possibly take them on alone!"

"Are you saying I'm weak?!"

"Well yeah, you've challenged me lots but never once won a match against me, in both baseball and battle!"

"I'M NOT WEAK, YOU JUST HAVEN'T WITNESSED MY TRUE MANLINESS YET," he declared and managed to make it to the end of the road before remembering something. "Oh… Marill!" he called, turning around and holding his hands out lovingly, "come along now!"

"Mar!" Marill cried and ran after him, the both of them laughing and leaping into each other's arms in sparkling cinematic slow-motion.

Whitney hunched over exasperatedly. "Ethan, manly?" she repeated. "That's an oxymoron!" And so, her and her friends continued watching Silver pummel the grunts for the next five minutes—at least until they felt bad and told him to stop.

* * *

Logging off the PC, Lyra lifted her head and scanned the Pokecenter. The occupants, whispering uneasily and peering out windows, flinched whenever so much as a shadow passed. Team Rocket had taken over Goldenrod City only an hour before—and now that the sun was rising—rocket flares rung out across the streets along with the occasional scream and call for help. More than anything right now, the city needed a hero.

Lyra turned to Typhlosion and nodded. "Let's move," she said, patting the new pokeball on her hip belt. "Luckily we had EVERYTHING we needed to season our new team mate! Though, she still needs to level-up a bit."

"Phlo?" Typhlosion inquired as to who this new teammate was.

"She's been in the box for awhile, but you'll just have to wait. For now, we have to protect the citizens!" And so, raising her fists and flexing mightily, Lyra ran out the door and all the way to the Radio Tower (with Typhlosion shuffling after her concernedly). Bursting in through the front door, Lyra tugged at her hat and yelled out, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOFOS!" Standing before her was… a Team Rocket grunt!

Unsettled by her storming in and shouting obscenities at him, he simply stared at her. "Who are you?" he asked at last, maintaining his calm when he remembered he was the mature one here.

"I'm, I'm," Lyra began but then contorted her limbs in awful realization. _Oh nads! _she thought, her muscles tensing. _I forgot to transform into Super Jump Girl… So right now, I'm still in Civilian Mode!_ "I'm DJ Mary's rabid stalker!" she continued hurriedly and uncertainly, "I mean… fangirl!"

Typhlosion held his face. (Which was quite a feat, given his stubby arms.)

The grunt began sweating as well, but for entirely different reasons. "We have some business going on," he explained, somewhat eager to let her in—since he honestly wanted to see what would happen between her and DJ Mary. "I was told not to let anyone pass but Team Rocket…"

"Oh right, right." Lyra clasped her hands together and nodded.

"Do you understand?" the grunt elbowed her. "You are only allowed to come through when you are wearing the cool black uniform for Team Rocket!"

"Oh?" Lyra crooned, catching on. "I see, I see…" _I've won,_ she smirked dementedly in hyper-aware thought; _Exactly as planned._

Typhlosion continued holding his face, well after they both had traveled to the Goldenrod Tunnel and bummed one of Cameron's stolen Team Rocket cosplay uniforms from a surprisingly fashion-conscientious and nice young grunt.

"With this disguise, I can do recon," Lyra explained her incredible web of intricacies to Typhlosion as they ran back to the Radio Tower. "As a double-double agent of justice, I can infiltrate Team Rocket, move some bearing blocks to the wobbly top, and topple them from the inside-out."

Typhloshion understood this all and thought it was a good idea, but then figured it wasn't as difficult as she was trying to make it sound. As a consequence, these musings made him completely unaware of the camera flashes following Lyra at every corner.

When the two dashed back inside the Radio Tower, they were greeted excitedly by the awaiting grunt. "Ha!" he exclaimed, elbowing Lyra once again, which kind of hurt since his elbow was really bony. "You must be new!"

"I am brand new!" Lyra agreed.

"You look pretty good in the Team Rocket uniform!"

"Lookin' good!"

"Go on ahead!" The grunt stepped aside and then whispered to her underhandedly, "DJ Mary's on the fourth floor." He had already prepared a camera.

Just then, a door flung open and Silver ran in from behind. "Hey, Team Rocket!" he yelled, making the two flinch. He had just arrived from the Game Corner, where it turned out Clair had already smashed in and saved Crystal—not that the girl genius needed it. Though handcuffed, Crystal had chewed through the slot machines' wiring with her bare teeth and reprogrammed them to project rogue holograms which terrorized Team Rocket and left Ethan crestfallen about his missed manliness opportunity. (Though he did get to catch her when she obligatorily fainted at the end.)

"Stop going around in groups and troubling people," Silver went on, thoroughly exhausted by the previous mission but still full of spite. "You cowards!"

_He appeared! Is this because I was wondering how he was doing?_ Lyra wondered, thinking about her earlier flight over Mahogany Town. "Or is it because I know it's my destiny?" she asked herself, understandably confusing Typhlosion. "Whatever it is, our positions have been compromised," she said, turning to the wall and raising her arms. "We'll have to make our escape. Typhlosion... Jet!" She waited silently for him to transform into their getaway vehicle.

Though failing to do so, Typhlosion grew silent as well, but it was already too late.

"…Huh?" Silver breathed down the girl's neck incredulously. "Are you Lyra?"

Beads of sweat rolled down the back of her head. "N… No," came a small, fat plumber-esque voice rife with socioeconomic stereotypes. "It's-a me."

Silver's anger escalated at this. (But not because of the socioeconomic thing, because he basically didn't care.) "What are you doing here?" he snapped, recognizing her at once.

"If you moustache me, it's-a for-a free-a executive calzone, stromboli, baozi, and, uh… um... spaghetti breakfast buffet."

"You liar!" the overhearing grunt bellowed. "You told me you were a rabid DJ Mary fangirl!"

"Hmm, I am jack of many tr̃ades, yes."

"That's the wrong accent you rip-off!"

Silver's face turned a pale blue when he came to a strikingly awful (and equally stupid) conclusion. "No way…" he muttered, placing his trembling hands on Lyra's back, "you think you're strong now that you look like them?"

"What," Lyra said. _Is he trying to wrongfully shame me for what I'm wearing? _she pondered. _Hmmmmm…!_

"That's foolish!" Silver declared, unable to bear her wearing such a tight black mini skirt—as well as the whole Team Rocket whatever. "You shouldn't wear those things!" He latched onto her tiny waist and lifted up the sleek fabric which despicably bound it.

"W-wait," Lyra gasped, tugging her shirt down. "Hypothetically speaking, what I wasn't Lyra, and you hallucinated and did this to a complete stranger?"

Silver paused, his commonsense jogged by this pseudo mental exercise. _If she were actually a stranger… _he thought critically; _then… I'd take it off!_ He completely reverted and began pulling even more vigorously this time, even going after her skirt hem.

"J-Jumpgirlmblehhgh," she cried and went spinning as he tore away her uniform—when suddenly—her eyes flashed and her crying morphed into a tea-kettle-like sound effect. "Digivolve to—" Her shredded Team Rocket uniform fell to the ground, revealing her normal clothes underneath. "–MegaSuperJumpGirlmon," she roared, her Eusine cape fluttering out and her black specs landing on her nose bridge with sleight of hand. "That's my mega evolution form's name, yo."

"That's way too long!" the grunt yelled.

Silver, however, collapsed on his hands and knees in defeat. "What... there's..." he let out, "another layer?" He couldn't believe it. "Why?" he asked chillingly—as if to question the accursed pokegods themselves. "That uniform was so tight… How was she wearing that underneath it? And this…" He retrieved the tattered Eusine cape he had once stolen from her out of his pocket to confirm he still had it. "Impossible…"

"Hmhmhm, yes, and now you've seen!" Lyra laughed superiorly, crossing her arms over her chest. "After all this time, you finally know the dastardly truth. Like how a Machop evolves into a butt-strapping sports girdle, I EVOLVED into these denim rompers."

"You mean overalls."

"There is nothing further underneath…" She ignored his comment and paused to highlight the terror of her revelation. "This is my TRUE! NAKED! FORM!" Her voice boomed menacingly, but only because she had vaulted the lobby counter and shouted into the PA system.

"That is absurd!" Silver argued, his whole perception of reality distorted by this twist she was trying to throw at him. "You're just trying to trip me out!" _And besides,_ he added in thought,_ I've kind of seen you naked before!_

"You may say it is absurd," she stood up with the mic, "but to me, it is absolute!"

"P-please, get off the counter," the receptionist said, her eyes peering up from under it. "And no battling in the lobby…." She sunk back under in hiding.

"Give me that damn cape," Silver said.

"NO," Lyra said, selfishly opposing these demands—and continuously so after Silver had dragged her off, kicking and hissing, and forced her down on the floor in order to steal her cape a second time.

"Didn't you get my note?" he said, ripping the cape's bow-tie from her neck. "It was addressed to the WEAKLING it was attached to. You don't need this stupid cape, or to stupidly pretend your stupid days away. Why don't you try to understand? Why can't you just understand my feelings!" He knocked her hat aside and grabbed her surprised face. "I think you're enough. As is. My rival!"

She watched him, wide-eyed and immobilized by his rude but forward confession. _Before, I couldn't look him in the face because I thought it was scary—but truthfully… it made my heart race,_ she realized, discovering her own feelings;_ It's true. I really am pretending my days away… but it's because I'm still working on making some things real. _"Silver," she said, reaching for his hands, "The truth is… I… I love y—"

"—Huh? What is this?" he interrupted, jabbing his finger at her neck.

"OW," she yelped, rubbing the sore spot confusedly. "Uh… oh yeah," she muttered, recalling the bruise, "that's where that boy bit me. I guess."

Silver's borderline-affectionate gaze corroded into one of burning animosity. "Boy?" he repeated lowly, seizing her by the collar before exploding, "YOU'VE BEEN CHEATING ON ME?"

"NO I SWEAR MY MOVESETS ARE LEGAL," Lyra blurted, unintelligibly defending her trainer credibility while Silver shook her.

"YOU IDIOT, I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT MOVESETS I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUR AFFAIR—"

"–OK I ADMIT DUNSPARCE IS HACKED BUT–"

There was a sharp ripping noise and the two gasped apprehensively. Silver's eyes sharpened as he held up a fistful of red cloth.

"So…" Lyra said, slinking down and looking away dramatically. "What are you going to do with me, Andre?"

"WHO THE HELL IS ANDRE?" Silver questioned, though his concerns over this and all her other insane ramblings dissipated entirely when his eyes drifted down to see what she was wearing—or _not_ _wearing_. His face went red. "A… a pokeball bra?" he stated, both fascinated and weirded-out by this preposterous discovery. "What the… Your underwear drawer was so much lacier, so I just assumed… Hmph, forget it. It's just like you to be this incomprehensible." By now, he excused his prolonged, perverted staring with the notion that he was simply critiquing her strange personal choices.

Lyra had already gone livid. "Jerkfaaaace—" she let out a berserker battle-cry and latched onto his legs—lifting him up over her shoulders where she stood. "—FIGHTING DRAGON PANTS-STEALING SUPLEX." She bent completely backwards, rolling him and slamming him on his head.

Silver fainted.

_I feel… so cold,_ he thought, his vision wrapped in darkness. _Could it be? … Am I dead? _

As light returned to the boy's sight, he found himself lying on the floor with Lyra grinning down at him. "Gray boxers, how totalitarian!" she said, his pants slung across her chest.

"You mean utilitarian," Silver faulted her, rubbing his disoriented face but shooting upright as soon as he saw his missing bottoms. "YOU," he screamed and covered himself, mortified by his own half-nakedness, "GIVE ME BACK MY PANTS."

"GIVE ME BACK MY YOUTH!"

"THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE _ANY_ SENSE." _And what kinda of ninja-wizardry IS this?! _he asked himself._ Did she strip me when I was knocked-out? _He then thought back to the sheer complexity of her one-hit KO move. "No," he muttered to himself, breaking out into a cold sweat as he remembered it all, frame-by-frame. "To an ordinary person, I appeared to be pants-less after I hit the ground. But to a fighter with remarkable reflexes, it becomes apparent that my pants were peeled away mid-air. How terrifying… this girl." He watched as she investigated his stolen pair, checking their stitching, inseam length, and even the steel buckle on their still-looped belt—all of which made him feel admittedly invaded. "She is… truly my rival."

With a loud smack, pictures fell from a pocket on the pants and Lyra bent down and retrieved them. "These are all... old pictures of me?" she gasped, sorting through them as Silver reached out a forlorn arm and sputtered. "And this one is of me as a child…" Turning her back on him, she hunched down several steps away and emitted a dark aura. "Then this means, Silver is a…"

Silver could feel his soul wither away, for surely, Lyra would revoke his noble Jerkface status and forever brand him as a perverted stalker.

"…A time-traveller?" Lyra said instead, her mouth agape as she peered back at him, genuinely overawed. Even Typhlosion seemed to be frightfully impressed by Silver's alleged time-traveling powers.

_She is truly my rival,_ Silver thought to himself again—and with quite a bittersweet note."Can I have my pants back now," he said flatly, standing up and snatching them away from her. Before she could protest, he unzipped his jacket and draped it around her. "Give it back to me later." He walked away, but not before stealing a brief glance of its oversized appearance on her. "I see now, you were trying to be sneaky… Typical of the meek! I'll let you handle this."

"Don't forget to wear your pants!" Lyra helpfully reminded him. "I know you get excited and forget." Her teeth gleamed heroically.

"What! This wasn't what I wanted to see!" the nearby grunt finally complained. "Het does nothing for me!" He pulled out a pokeball, ready for battle. "But it's good I watched, because now, I know the true identity of Team Rocket's arch nemesis, Super Jump Girl!" He cackled madly, sending out a Raticate.

"Noooooo, you fiend!" Lyra cried, spurring Typhlosion into action.

"That's right! Her identity is… a girl named Mario!"

Silver calmly exited as all the lights shattered and the room filled with fire.

_~To be continued…~_


End file.
